PRIVATE  LIBRARY 

OF 

R.    W.    WHITTINGHILL 


m 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


At  20  years  of  ag 


Love  Among  the  Mistletoe 


Poems 


i AMES  B.  ELMORB 


ALAMO,  IND.: 
PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 

183.Q 


Entered  according   to   Aft  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1SU9,  )>y 

JAMES  B.  ELMORK, 
In  tlie  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  I).  (,'. 


TS 
/  — * 


,35:0? 

L 


This  book  is  dedicated  to  all  lovers  of  good, 

And  to  those  who  admire  pure  reading. 
Be  sure  to  peruse  it  as  you  should, 

Observing  the  lesson*  of  good  breeding. 
"We  give  no  apology  for  making  things  plain, 

In  a  modest,  graphical  way, 
For  nature  has  done  her  work  just  the  same1, 

And  given  our  lessons  to-day. 
Mother  Xature  has  been  to  us  a  great  school, 

Of  which  ourselves  are  a  part. 
There  can  be  no  often  se,  if  we  stick  to  the  rule, 

And  give  the  pen-pictures  of  heart. 
Xow  this  we  have  done  for  the  pleasure  of  all, 

And  to  the  inanimate  gave  life. 
AVe  deem  it  the  best  new  things  to  install 

And  give  to  Dame  Nature  new  life. 

JAMES  B.   ELMOKE. 


759938 


INDKX. 


PAGE. 

Preface iii 

Love  Among  the  Mistletoe 1 

Bessie,  the  Belle  of  Alamo 48 

Scenes  in  School 49 

A  Bird's  Eye  View  of  a  Court  Election  Scene 50 

Simile  of  Gold  and  Silver,  by  Maid  and  Man 52 

The  Wrecked  Train 54 

Alamo 5g 

The  Germ  or  Nucleus  of  Alamo    ...        5g 

The   Cricket  .    .                   61 

Heroes  of  Santiago  de  Cuba 62 

Indiana 64 

Shoe  Cobbler         65 

The  Soul 6& 

The  Shades 67 

Jugging  Bumblebees » 69 

Workings  of  Bees 71 

Kaising  the  Flag.        72 

Childish  Glee            75 

A  Back- woods  School 77 

Alone  in  the  Woods 78 

Yountsville 79 

A  Description  of  History 81 

The  Old  Sawmill 82 

Alcohol 83 

Over  the  Hills  to  the  School  House 84 

Crawfordsville,  alias  Athene 86 

The  Red    Bird 87 

Soldiers'  Monument 89 

Office-seeking         91 

Childhood  in  the  Orchard 92 

The  Hero  01  Manila 93 

The  Savior 95 

The    Editors 97 

Election   Day 98 

Little  Dog  Fred 99 

(v) 


Yl  INDEX. 

PAGE. 

A  Snovvflake 101 

A  Hornet's  Nest 102 

The  Cunning,  Covetous  Jew 103 

The  Ragaedy  Gal 100 

The  Wells  Tragedy     .    .    .    '. "108 

Maxwell      Ill 

The  Kissing  Bug 114 

The  Happy  Farmer 115 

John  Chinaman,  My  Joe 117 

The  Painter  Poet,  J.   VV.  Kiiey 119 

Pocahontas 120 

Hans  Spailgens'  Hen 122 

The  Robin 124 

Our  Flag 126 

A  View  of  Nature 127 

Kind  Deeds 128 

The  Monon  Wreck 129 

A  Revival  Meeting 133 

My  Mary  of  Missouri 134 

Money  Moves 137 

Mary's  Lamb 138 

Language 139 

The  Warship  Maine 140 

Thanksgiving 142 

A  Country  Sawmill  Wagon 143 

A  Characterized  School 144 

A  Country  E!<)er 145 

Death  of  D.  W.  Voorhees 146 

The  Frog 147 

Pearl  Bryan's  Fate 149 

1>  >tanical  Science        152 

The  Critic  Pro  Tern 153 

Wabash  College 154 

Jim  Elmore's  Best 1"6 

Dudes  and  Sassafras 157 

The  Country  Boy 159 

Intel-urban  Railway      lb'4 

The  Modern  Woodman 165 

\Vhen  I  WKH  Young 167 

To;i  Bir.l 169 

Our  Father 170 


INDEX. 


When  the  Pawpaws  are  Kipe 171 

.Stick  to  Your  Calling 17 1' 

My  Sweetheart  of  Long  Ago 171 

Jennie's  Hide 17i> 

"  The  Bard  of  Alamo  "     .    .    .    .' iSl 

The  Ladies' Athenian  Club 182 

De  01'  Plantation 184 

Law  ton's  Brigade 18(> 

The  Poet  .    .       188 

A  Sonnet ll.»0 

Our  Baby 1W 

Life H»-' 

Poets  are  Born,  Not  Made 1U4 

The  Buggy 195 

"Ben  Hur"  in  Drama   ...-•• H)(i 

A  Sonnet li)!> 

Acrostic 200 

What  the  lloosier  Sees  in  Chicago 200 

Acrostic 20:! 

Acrostic 204 

Sugar-making  Song 204 

Sugar  Making     .    .    , 20(i 

Acrostic 210 

Abige  and  Turkey  Tom 210 

Music 211! 

How  Success  is  Won 217 

Envoy 2215 


LOVE  AMONG  THE  MISTLETOE. 

NAMES  OF  CHARACTERS: 

John  Arno Rival 

Mrs.  Arno Kingston 

George  Hope Servant 

Fay  Larchen Accomplice 

Cecil  Ivy Suitor 

Violet  Payne Queenstown 

Agnes  Percy Accomplice,  Oaken 

Mrs.  Payne. 

Kailroad  Station,  Fairmount 

A  LOXG  a  winding  river,  where  grew  forests  of 
**•  chestnut,  magnolia  and  elm,  many  years  ago,  a 
very  rich  man  settled  and  "bought  a  large  tract  of 
land,  lying  on  each  side  of  this  beautiful  stream.  He 
lived  here  in  solitude  for  a  number  of  years  on  his 
vast  estate,  lying  on  either  side  of  the  great  Rock 
River,  stretching  for  miles  up  and  down  the  stream, 
clothed  in  the  most  picturesque  scenery. 

But  one  fine  day  a  son  was  born  to  him,  and  was 
christened  John  Arno.  He  was  a  very  beautiful 
child,  and  heir  to  all  the  estate.  The  plantation 
grew  and  grew,  and  became  more  attractive  as  a  pub 
lic  resort,  as  the  adjoining  lands  were  cleared  and 
made  into  farms.  Around  this  place  a  great  many 
incidents  cling.  The  old  man  and  woman  were  of 
Quaker  descent,  and  were  very  odd.  They  had  a  kind 
of  an  aversion  to  society,  but  they  built  for  them- 

2  (1) 


INDIANA. 


selves  a  palace  on  the  highest  hank  of  the  river,  or  in 
other  words  it  was  a  vast  citadel.  One  had  but  to 
look  out  and  behold  the  river  below,  with  its  nar 
rows  and  whispering  galleries  as  the  winds  gently 
passed  by. 

In  this  pleasant  situation  John  grew  to  manhood, 
playing  along  the  river,  hunting  pretty  shells,  and 
climbing  the  hills,  Avhich  teemed  with  wild  flowers, 
corded  grape-vines  and  mistletoe.  He  would  take  his 
hook  and  line,  and  would  fish  for  bass,  silversides  and 
gold  fish.  He  would  sit  on  a  very  large  rock  in  the 
river,  known  as  the  Old  Eagle  Rock,  where  the  last 
wild  Indian  was  shot  and  killed  by  a  neighbor  while 
he  was  fishing.  The  Indian  incurred  the  enmity  of 
this  man  by  telling  stories  of  vast  lead  mines  on  the 
plantation,  whose  location  he  kept  a  secret,  and  by 
telling  how  he  had  killed  white  people  and  infant 
children  by  taking  them  by  the  feet  and  knocking 
their  brains  out  against  the  walls  of  their  houses,  and 
as  you  know  by  tradition  even  back  to  the  ancients. 
The  blood  of  this  Indian  is  on  this  rock  to-day  as  it 
gushed  forth  and  he  plunged  into  the  river.  John 
would  take  long  rambles  in  the  woods,  and  he  became 
acquainted  with  the  different  kinds  of  wild  flowers 
which  grew  on  every  knoll  and  hill.  The  creeks  and 
rill?  rippled  over  mossy  beds  and  pebbly  bottoms 
which  sparkled  like  diamonds. 

On  the  north  bank  of  Rock  River  was  a  large  cave, 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE. 

known  as  Hidden  Mystery,  where  oft  John  and  the 
people  would  go  with  lanterns  and  torches  as  ex 
plorers.  This  cave  had  many  rooms  and  domes,  with 
sweet  waters.  The  water  which  trickled  down  the 
Avails  left  them  encrusted,  which  shone  all  around  like 
stars  or  mines  when  exposed  to  the  light  of  the  lan 
terns.  The  water  which  trickled  down  overhead  left 
spires  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  in  the  bottom  were 
porous  rock  and  eyeless  fish. 

Xow,  John  was  old  enough  to  go  to  school,  hut  he 
had  been  born  and  raised  in  one  of  Nature's  grandest 
of  art  schools  in  the  world.  His  father  determined 
to  send  him  to  school  at  Boston,  where  he  could  add 
to  his  natural  learning  a  scientific  knowledge  and 
come  in  contact  with  the  wealth  and  pomp  of  the  old 
world  among  the  gay  ladies  and  jeweled  princesses. 
The  day  came,  and  John,  with  his  father,  embarked 
on-  a  steamer  for  Boston.  Down  the  great  Mississippi 
they  go  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  where  they  embark  on 
a  large  vessel  for  Xew  York,  and  thence  to  Boston. 
In  about  a  week  they  are  in  Boston,  and  John  is  sent. 
to  college,  where  he  is  to  stay  five  years,  or  until  he  is 
twenty  years  old.  His  father  goes  home  and  engages 
in  stocks  and  bonds  and  pork-packing,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  he  had  the  touch  of  the  fabled  Midas,  as 
everything  he  touched  turned  into  the  yellow  metal. 

But,  as  you  have  learned,  this  is  one  of  the  prettiest 
places  in  the  world,  with  its  semi-tropical   scenery, 


4  INDIANA. 

and  it  being  a  favorite  watering-place,  people  from 
all  over  the  world  came  on  tours  of  pleasure  and  en 
vied  the  old  man  his  possessions,  and  young  lasses 
sought  the  hand  of  his  son.  There  was  a  great 
bridge  across  Rock  River  at  this  place,  where  people 


THE    CASTLE. 


would  cross  and  linger  for  hours  and  hours  looking  at 
the  scenery,  and  the  great  mansion  which  overlooked 
the  crowning  hill.  In  these  days  it  was  something 
uncommon  to  see  such  a  large  building  in  this  section 
of  country,  and  such  elevators  of  stored  grain.  In 
the  cellar  of  this  grand  mansion  was  everything  that 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE. 


man  could  wish — all  kinds  of  fruits  and  viands. 
There  were  malt  liquors  which  had  grown  old  with 
age,  and  which  had  become  thick  and  white  like 
cream,  and  lost  their  tart,  biting  sting,  such  as  epi 
cures  would  like  to  sample.  The  barrels  were  cov 
ered  with  moss  like  that  on  the  rock  of  ages. 

Xow,  this  toiling  father  was  growing  old,  and  his 
very  dream  was  the  idol  of  his  son,  on  whom  he 
wished  to  bestow  all  his  wealth — not  only  the  treas 
ures  of  this  earth,  but  the  treasures  of  his  heart  also. 
And  the  mother — a  meek,  gentle  woman,  polished 
and  mannerly,  a  very  type  of  beauty  and  of  her  race. 
Tt  seems  as  though  wealth  is  an  incentive  to  bring 
the  beautiful  of  earth  together,  which  begets  beauty 
until  it  is  in  a  perfect  state,  enabling  one  to  grow  in 
ease  and  pleasure,  and  therefore  grow  to  manhood 
and  obtain  those  luxuries  and  necessities  which  are 
builders  of  symmetry.  The  mother  has  impressed 
upon  her  son  the  kind,  gentle  spirit  of  her  life,  and  is 
looking  forward  to  the  crowning  of  her  glory. 

John  has  now  gone  to  college  for  two  years,  and 
has  made  many  acquaintances,  and  has  looked  upon 
many  fair  faces.  He  has  been  leader  in  his  class, 
having  inherited  the  will-power  of  his  father,  and  he 
has  refused  the  hand  of  many  fair  ladies.  But  in 
the  midst  of  his  success  his  father  dies,  leaving  nil  in 
his  hands:  but  his  mother  is  to  assume  control  of  the 
estate  until  he  is  twenty-one  years  of  age.  lie  is 


b  INDIANA. 

called  home  to  the  funeral  of  his  father,  and  stays  a 
week  for  recreation,  and  during  this  week  at  home  he 
returns  to  his  old  playgrounds  amidst  the  hills  and 
vines  along  the  creek,  and  in  one  of  his  rambles  he 
spies  a  neat,  beautiful  form  standing  on  the  bank  of 
the  stream  and  looking  at  him.  He  looks  again,  and 
he  is  bewildered  with  the  brightness  of  her  face.  He 
had  never  looked  upon  such  a  one  before.  A  feeling 
of  love  came  over  him  as  she  tossed  at  him  a  red  rose 
that  he  could  not  resist.  His  large  blue  eyes  peered 
into  hers,  which  were  a  beautiful  brown,  and  there 
was  such  a  charm  in  them  that  he  waded  across  the 
stream  to  greet  her,  and,  climbing  up  the  little 
hillock,  he  bowed  and  introduced  himself  as  Mr.  John 
Arno,  of  Kingston.  She  also  bowed  with  courtesy 
and  said:  "Miss  Violet  Payne,  of  Queenstown/'  and 
her  voice  closed  with  a  musical  Scottish  accent  which 
he  never  forgot — that  voice  he  could  hear  at  all  times. 
It  was  to  him  like  that  of  the  sweet  sirens  of  the 
lonely  isles. 

The  happv  meeting  was  like  that  which  befalls 
some  awful  catastrophe.  For  a  moment  all  was  silent 
while  each  looked  upon  the  other.  Then  he  said: 
"Let's  take  a  ramble  and  cull  some  pretty  flowers.'' 
They  started  off  on  a  tour  of  the  hills  and  valleys, 
seeking  the  pretty  flowers  and  shells,  and  walked 
along  Echoing  Glen,  whose  upright  walls  rebounded 
the  human  voice,  and  where  the  wild  pheasants  beat 


LOVE  AMONG  THE   MISTLETOE. 


upon  their  breasts  with  their  wings,  which  seemed 
like  the  distant  sound  of  some  primeval  drum.  Then 
as  they  retraced  their  steps  the  quail  whistled  a  signal 
of  approaching  eve,  and  the  whip-poor-will  darted 
here  and  there.  On  arriving  at  her  carriage  they 
agreed  to  correspond  with  each  other  when  he  arrived 
at  school  and  she  at  her  home.  Then  the  driver  was 
ready,  and  a  crack  of  the  whip  sent  the  carriage  roll 
ing  away  over  the  pike,  while  he  stood  in  low  spirits, 
watching  the  one  object  of  his  mind  vanish  out  of 
sight. 

lie  returned  to  his  home  at  Kingston  late  in  the 
evening.  His  mother  discovered  that  he  did  not  act 
with  as  much  high  spirits  as  usual,  but  she  supposed 
that  it  was  owing  to  the  death  of  his  father  and  his 
having  to  return  to  school  on  the  morrow.  He  as 
sisted  his  mother  with  her  work  as  best  he  could,  and 
appeared  to  be  as  cheerful  as  one  could  under  the 
circumstances.  His  mother  noticed,  too,  that  there 
was  an  expression  of  absent-mindedness  in  his  de 
meanor,  and  she  meditated  herself  as  to  the  cause  of 
it.  She  thought  that  if  her  son  appeared  so  at  school 
that  he  would  do  no  good,  but  she  hoped  and  trusted 
for  the  better. 

John  went  to  bed  with  a  light  heart,  and  he  coiild 
hear  that  vessel  beat  and  throb  at  his  breast  with 
greater  ardor  than  usual.  He  lay  on  his  bed  with 
his  mind's  eye  placed  upon  the  object  which  he  had 


INDIANA. 

seen  across  the  (lowing  river  and  standing  like  a 
statue  on  the  little  hillock.  But  as  his  anxiety  was 
worn  away  he  passed  into  deep  repose,  thinking  little 
of  the  future.  That  hed  was  to  him  like  the  bed  of 
shamrock  and  roses  to  the  daughter  of  Daniel 
O'Connell  on  the  banks  of  the  Sharon  in  the  Emerald 
Isle.  But  on  his  awaking  he  felt  like  he  was  trans 
ported  from  a  land  of  sweet  dreams,  and  went  about 
greeting  his  mother  and  getting  his  many  things  to 
gether  for  his  return  to  school.  His  mother  tried  to 
be  in  his  presence  as  much  as  possible,  for  she  knew 
how  long  two  years  of  absence  would  be,  and  as  she 
was  getting  old  she  might  not  survive  that  time  But 
all  seemed  well  for  the  time.  She  knew  she  would 
have  to  spend  her  time  with  the  servants  and  make 
the  most  of  life,  for  her  husband,  Mr.  Arno,  was  a 
cheerful  man,  jolly  and  sociable. 

The  time  for  his  departure  had  come,  and  George, 
the  old  servant  of  the  family,  who  had  been  so  good 
and  trusty  for  so  many  years,  had  the  best  team  of 
roadsters  hitched  to  take  him  to  the  station.  lie 
walked  out  to  the  carriage,  while  his  baggage  was 
carried  by  the  servant.  His  mother  followed  to  bid 
him  good-bye,  and  to  give  him  a  check  for  $500.  his 
yearly  allowance  set  apart  by  his  father.  As  he  took 
the  clK'ck  he  shook  hands  with  his  mother,  and  tears 
stood  in  his  bright  blue  eyes  so  large  that  they 
dimmed  his  sight,  and  his  mother  could  scarcely  bear 


LOVE    AMONG   THE    MISTLETOE.  1) 

up  under  the  sadness  of  heart.  (Jem-ire  had  already 
seated  himself  in  the  carriage,  and  John,  springing 
in,  seated  himself  by  his  side.  As  George  pulled  the 
reins  they  are  off  immediately. 

It  is  twenty  miles  to  the  station,  but  John  gets 
George  to  go  by  way  of  Queenstown,  which  is  about 
five  miles  out  of  the  way,  so  that  he  may  see  the  home 
of  Violet,  and,  if  po-sible,  get  a  glimpse  of  her. 
George  wonders  why  John  wanted  to  go  that  way, 
but  hesitated  to  interrogate  him.  About  a  mile  north 
of  Queenstown  is  a  quaint  little  cottage,  surrounded 
by  chestnuts  and  evergreens,  and  whose  lawns  were 
decorated  with  smilax,  honeysuckles  and  chrysanthe 
mums.  It  recalls  to  one  the  scene  of  Maud  Muller's 
beautiful  country  home,  as  portrayed  by  the  artful 
mind  of  Whittier.  As  they  approach  this  lovely  place 
they  behold  a  beautiful  little  cottage,  like  that  of  a 
shepherd  in  Scotland.  George  notices  that  John  is 
restless,  and  is  constantly  looking  in  the  distant  yard. 
Violet  is  near  where  the  lambkins  are  at  play,  amus 
ing  herself  with  these  gentle  animals.  They  are 
driving  very  fast,  and  John  salutes  her  with  his  hand 
kerchief;  but  she  does  not  fully  recognize  him,  but 
thinks  it  resembles  the  heir  at  Kingston.  George 
for  the  first  time  has  his  suspicion  aroused,  for  he  too 
saw  the  beautiful  physique  of  the  lady,  which  to  him 
was  an  ideal  of  symmetry.  They  speed  along,  and 
John  gives  George  a  faint  idea  of  his  friendship's 


10  iXDlAN'A. 

episode,  trusting  him  to  keep  the  secret.  Xo\v.  this 
was  like  a  bomb  to  George,  as  he  had  never  seen  John 
in  the  company  of  ladies.  They  arrive  at  the  station: 
it  is  after  noon  and  the  train  is  on  time,  and  their 
words  of  parting  are  few.  He  hands  to  George  a 
sweet-scented  Havana  cigar,  and  requests  him  to  give 
his  mother  his  best  love  and  esteem,  and  asks  him  to 
k"eep  his  secret.  The  train  has  now  arrived;  they 
shake  hands,  and  John  is  off  for  the  Mississippi  and 
George  to  the  grief-stricken  home,  where  lie  finds 
Mrs.  Arno  awaiting  his  arrival,  and  the  incident?  of 
her  son's  departure.  When  everything  is  attended 
to  they  seat  themselves  and  George  relates  how  cheer 
fully  they  made  the  trip,  and  how  John  got  on  the 
train  and  it  glided  off  with  the  wings  of  a  bird.  But 
lie  never  once  hinted  of  the  beautiful  peasant  home 
which  they  had  passed.  Mrs.  Arno  was  a  kind,  gentle 
woman,  and  had  no  dislike  for  the  poor  or  those  who 
were  less  fortunate  than  herself.  But  she  well  knew 
the  position  wealth  placed  one  in  in  society,  and  so 
she  desired  her  son  to  marry  a  lady  of  wealth.  She 
went  about  her  work  in  the  same  industrious  manner 
that  she  had  always  done,  and  George  had  to  assume 
the  responsibility  and  care  of  the  estate  under  her 
supervision. 

Jn  a  few  days  John  arrived  at  school,  and  went 
about  his  work  with  ardor,  for  he  was  ambitious  and 
filled  with  zeal.  He  met  all  his  old  friends  and 


LOVE   AMONG  THE   MISTLETOE.  11 

treated  them  a*  best  lie  could  in  the  condition  he  was 
placed  by  the  death  of  his  father  and  the  parting  of 
his  new  acquaintance.  He  assumed  rather  the  habits 
of  a  Thoreau,  but  he  was  always  at  the  head  of  his 
class.  The  time  passed  away  very  fast,  and  one  even 
ing,  while  meditating,  he  resolved  to  write  to  Violet, 
and,  seating  himself  at  his  table,  which  was  stre\vn 
with  the  sophomore's  books,  he  attempted  to  write  her 
a  letter,  hut  their  acquaintance  was  so  brief  that  he 
hardly  knew  what  to  write.  So  he  wrote  a  neat  letter 
of  friendship,  rehearsing  their  first  meeting  and  their 
ramble  over  hills  and  valleys,  which  he  so  much  en 
joyed,  and  would  some  time  in  the  future  be  pleased 
to  see  her  again,  and  of  the  favorable  impression  he 
had  formed  of  her.  He  also  related  to  her  his  long 
trip,  and  how  he  went  from  place  to  place  until  he 
arrived  at  Boston.  He  requested  her  to  write  soon, 
and  closed  with  these  beautiful  lines: 

How  sweet  it  is  to  me,  I  find, 
To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind. 
Your  friend, 

JOHN  ARNO, 

Boston,  Mass. 

In  due  time  Violet  received  this  letter  and  read  it 
with  care,  noting  everything,  even  the  style  and  ex 
pression.  She  kept  it  all  a  secret,  for  she  had  a  fel 
low  by  the  name  of  Cecil  Ivy,  who  had  been  courting 


12  INDIANA. 

her  for  a  long  time,  and  who  was  well-to-do  and  very 
good  looking,  and  who  had  many  friends,  and  of 
whom  Violet  thought  very  well.  She  made  up  her 
mind  to  write  Mr.  Arno  a  letter,  thanking  him  very 
much  for  the  high  esteem  in  which  he  held  her,  and 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  his  very  welcome  letter. 
She  told  him  of  her  trip  home  from  Rock  liiver,  and 
how  she  admired  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  and  she 
closed  by  soliciting  an  answer  and  signing: 
Your  friend, 

Miss  VIOLET  PAYNE, 

Quecnstown,  lenn. 

She  has  a  lady  friend  by  the  name  of  Fay  Larchen 
in  whom  she  places  confidences,  and  often  trusted  her 
with  her  secrets.  In  a  few  days  she  meets  Fay,  and 
they  go  for  a  ramble  in  the  orchard  near  the  old  well, 
where  the  ancient  shadoosh  overhangs  the  curb,  with 
a  moss-covered  vessel  attached  to  the  end  of  a  pole, 
the  like  of  which  would  suggest  a  good  place  to  tell 
one's  secrets.  Here  Violet  narrates  to  Fay  her  trip 
to  the  river,  her  meeting  of  John  Arno  and  their 
pleasant  walk,  and  her  promise  to  write  to  him  when 
he  arrived  in  Boston.  She  shows  John's  letter,  and 
Fay  is  so  fascinated  with  it  that  she  wants  to  write  to 
John,  as  Violet  already  has  a  gentleman  friend. 
Violet  does  not  consent,  although  she  thinks  well  of 
Cecil,  and  trusts  all  will  be  well.  Fay,  bemg  de 
feated  in  her  wish,  confides  her  secret  to  Cecil. which 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  13 

is  bound  to  create  a  jealousy.  Cecil  now  goes  to  see 
Violet,  who  seems  to  be  as  cheerful  as  ever  and  treats 
him  with  as  much  courtesy.  But  he  pushes  his  suit 
more  than  ever,  and  accuses  her  of  another  gentle 
man  friend.  She  acknowledges  the  receipt  of  a  letter, 
but  that  'twas  only  a  friendship  one.  Cecil  makes 
greater  appeals  of  love,  and  asks  her  hand,  but  she 
withholds  her  answer.  He  still  comes  to  see  her,  and 
her  mother  tells  her  that  she  is  getting  old.  and  that 
she  will  need  an  arm  upon  which  to  lean,  when  she  is 
gone;  also,  Fay  tries  to  induce  her  to  accept,  but  she 
can't  decide. 

Violet  now  sees  a  rival  in  Fay,  if  she  but  gives  her 
the  opportunity.  So  she  is  a  little  shy  until  she  is 
more  settled  in  her  mind.  But  during  this  time  she 
receives  another  letter  from  John  acknowledging  the 
receipt  of  hers.  He  is  now  some  encouraged,  and  has 
recovered  from  home  affairs,  and  his  pen  glows  with 
a  gentle  ripple  of  harmony.  lie  tells  her  how  he  is 
getting  along,  and  hopes  he  may  be  home  soon.  He 
closed  again  with  a  few  lines  on  tbeir  first  meeting: 

The  day  that  T  stood  beside  the  brook, 

And  thou  stood  on  the  hill, 
I  gave  but  one  mild,  gentle  look, 
Whilst  thou  stood  still. 
Answer  soon. 

Your  friend, 

JOHN  AKNO, 

Boston,  Mass. 


14  INDIANA. 

Violet -does  not  show  this  letter,  and  Cecil  comes 
on  and  presses  his  suit,  and  Violet  does  not  know  ex 
actly  what  to  do.  She  knows  that  Cecil  loves  her, 
but  she  is  not  certain  about  John,  as  he  has  been  very 
delicate,  and  she  does  not  know  that  she  is  the  only 
lady  friend  he  ever  had. 

Cecil  asks  her  to  take  a  drive  out  to  Rock  River, 
and  she  consents.  The  day  is  set,  and  they  drive. out. 
They  go  up  and  down  the  river,  and  view  Paradise 
Alley,  where  the  scenes  are  as  beautiful  as  the  word 
implies,  with  its  little  stream  flowing  ovei  shining 
pebbles,  and  a  narrow  path  extending  along  each  side, 
with  such  pretty  mosses  and  banging  vines  iliat  one 
nearly  loses  consciousness.  While  here,  Cecil  thinks 
he  may  overcome  her  obstinacy,  and  he  talks  of  the 
future,  and  his  love  for  her,  and  hopes  she  maycon- 
sent  to  his  proposal;  but  she  drops  the  conversation 
by  alluding  to  their  pleasant  surroundings.  They 
pass  on  and  come  to  Pleasant  View,  where  they  as 
cend  a  little  mound  opposite  a  beautiful  cascade, 
whose  waters  fall  about  twenty  feet  and  turn  in  a  boil 
below,  forming  a  white  foam,  and  a  gentle  zephyr 
carries  a  mist  into  the  air,  on  which  is  mirrored  all 
the  prismatic  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

In  this  picturesque  place  Cecil  says  in  his  heart: 
"This  world  would  1  give1,  were  it  mine,  for  the  hand 
ol  \  iolet."  (leorge,  the  old  servant,  is  looking  over 
the  estate,  and  sees  these  two  young  people,  and 


LOVE  AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE. 


watches  them.  He  thinks  he  recognizes  the  form  he 
*aw  at  the  peasant  cottage,  and  he  knows  by  their 
actions  that  they  are  lovers.  They  pass  on  ond  arrive 
at  a  cliff,  where  the  old  eagles  are  feeding  their  young, 
and  the  whole  cliff  seems  to  be  perforated  or  honey 
combed.  Then  they  arrive  at  the  little  hillock  where 
she  first  met  John  Arno,  and  she  pauses  and  looks 
down  upon  the  spot  where  he  stood,  gazing  in  space, 
speechless,  thinking:  ''Was  it  true,  or  is  it  only  a 
fancy,  such  as  lovers  are  apt  to  have?"  Cecil  notices 
this,  and  he  is  spellbound  to  know  what  it  means. 
Violet  sees  in  her  mind's  eye  that  tall,  graceful  form 
standing  there,  and  says  to  herself,  "I  would  he  could 
be  there  now."  George,  by  this  strange  incident,  is 
certain  that  it  is  Violet,  and  that  there  is  a  strain 
upon  her  mind — something  that  is  clothed  in  mystery 
or  hidden  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  soul.  Cecil  and 
Violet  pass  on,  but  Violet  is  not  cheerful,  and  they 
go  to  the  carriage  and  return  home.  Cecil  docs  the 
talking,  while  she  is  meditating,  only  now  and  then 
assenting  to  what  he  says.  They  part  at  the  gate 
with  the  same  friendship  as  before.  Cecil  has  ac 
cused  her  of  her  love  for  some  other  one,  but  she 
keeps  her  secrets.  He  goes  home  and  gets  Fay  Lar- 
chen  to  visit  Violet,  and  they  repair  to  the  old  swing 
in  the  orchard  to  talk  over  old  times,  and  Fay  tries 
to  solicit  Violet  to  tell  her  more  about  John;  but 
Violet  is  wise  in  her  own  counsel,  and  she  is  reticent. 


16  INDIANA. 

Then  Fay  shows  the  good  (jualities  of  Cecil,  and 
Violet  admits  its  being  so.  Fay  also  talks  to  Violet's 
mother,  and  tries  in  that  way  to  find  out  something. 
But  as  yet  she  knows  little  of  Violet's  meeting  John. 
Ueorii'e,  the  servant,  writes  to  John  what  he  saw,  and 
tells  all  he  knows  about  the  circumstances,  and  de 
scribes  the  man  which  he  saw  with  her  the  best  that 
he  can,  and  about  her  standing  on  the  little  hillock, 
taxing  on  the  shoal  of  pebbles,  mussel  and  periwinkle 
shells. 

It  has  been  some  time  since  Violet  received  a  letter, 
and  she  no\v,  since  she  has  taken  the  pleasure  trip 
and  has  been  relieved  from  the  pressure  of  fi lends, 
seats  herself  to  write  to  .John.  She  relates  her  trip 
to  1'ock  River  and  the  pleasant  time  she  had,  and 
recalls  the  place  of  their  first  meeting  so  long  ago. 
She  tells  how  many  young  people  she  saw  boating 
and  moving  slowly  down  the  stream  with  the  current, 
and  the  gay  laughter  that  echoed  in  her  cars.  But 
she  never  once  says  a  word  of  her  gentleman  friend 
who  accompanied  her.  She  makes  herself  appear  as 
happy  as  possible,  and  hopes  he  is  so  in  the  Hub  City 
in  a  whirl] tool  of  society,  and  closes  with  a  very 
friendly  greeting. 

Little  does  she  know  of  the  strain  on  his  mind  to 
get  an  education  and  become  famous,  and  of  his  seclu 
sion  from  society.  He  has  received  George's  letter 
some  days  before,  and  he  knows,  when  he  receives 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  17 

Violet's  letter,  that  George  i.s  true  and  faithful,  <;nd 
that  he  really  saw  Violet  at  the  dell-.  John  i.s  wor 
ried  about  the  gentleman  that  George  saw 'with  her, 
hut  he  makes  up  his  mind  never  to  say  a  wovd  to  her 
ahout  it,  and  trusts  to  silence  as  the  best  road  to 
long  friendship,  as  it  will  bo  more  manly  and  let 
his  affections  pass  to  her  heart  as  the  seraphs  take 
their  flight  from  earth  to  heaven.  And  he  well 
knows,  in  the  language  of  Shakespeare,  that  "light 
winning  makes  the  prize  light.''  So  he  studies  on, 
with  a  little  fear  in  his  heart  lest  he  fail  in  his  love. 
ITc  writes  to  his  dear  mother  and  George,  telling  hi> 
situation,  and  how  he  is  advancing  in  hi-  studio-,  and 
speaks  of  his  being  well,  and  thanks  George  for  his 
many  fa\or*  so  that  his  mother  will  not  understand 
what  he  ha<  reference  to.  lie  now  writes  to  Violet, 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  her  ever-welcome  letter, 
and  the  happiness  which  it  gave  him  to  hear  from  her 
and  that  life  was  a  pleasure  to  her.  But  he  thought 
that  he  needed  some  assistance  to  counteract  Fay  in 
her  work  for  Cecil.  So  he  writes  to  his  cousin.  Agnes 
Percy,  at  Oaken,  a  nice  letter,  and  sends  his  picture, 
requesting  her  to  go  and  make  the  acquaintance  of 
Violet  and  to  give  her  the  picture,  and  tell  her  of  his 
deep  love  which  he  has  for  her,  and  to  see  if  Violet 
returned  his  affection. 

Xow,  Agnes  was  a  good  messenger,  for  s-he  was  well 
received  by  Violet,  and  her  very  face  bore  the  impres- 


18  INDIANA. 

sion  of  confidence',  and,  as  you  know,  when  one  is  in 
love  and  troubled,  they  are  low-spirited  and  apt  to  tell 
secrets.  They  went  to  the  orchard,  so  as  to  be  alone, 
and  to  talk  together.  Agnes  drew  from  her  bosom 
the  photograph  of  John  and  handed  it  to  A'iolet,  who, 
on  recognizing  it,  pressed  it  to  her  lips  and  kissed  it. 
Then  she  leaned  over  and  embraced  Agnes.  This  act 
sealed  their  friendship.  Agnes  knew  well  that  Violet 
loved,  and  as  she  was  John's  cousin,  she  no  longer 
hid  it  from  her.  She  told  Agnes  that  she  loved  Cecil, 
but  had  not  consented  to  his  proposal,  and  that  she 
thought  well  of  John  also,  but  that  she  did  not  know 
whether  he  would  return  her  love.  So  Agnes  told 
her  how  much  John  was  infatuated  with  her,  and  to 
wait  awhile  before  she  made  up  her  mind,  and  that 
John  was  delicate  on  such  matters,  and  ^how  he  had 
solicited  her  to  assist  him,  and  that  she  thought  him 
in  earnest.  So  Violet  said  she  would  defer  answering 
Cecil  for  some  time.  Then  Agnes'returned  home  and 
wrote  to  John  what  she  had  done  and  what  she  had 
found  out.  Then  John  thought.that  he  was  all  right 
if  he  could  come  home  soon.  His  school  will  soon 
close,  and  he  will  be  one  of  the  best  in  his  class,  and 
he  can  begin  life  for  himself  with  honor. 

Cecil  kept  on  going  with  Violet  as  before,  and  kept 
the  same  old  struggle  in  her  heart  alive.  She  did  not 
feel  like  casting  him  off,  for  fear  of  the  worst,  and  so 
it  Ulled  her  very  soul  with  gloom,  and  her  mother  sug- 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  19 

gested  that  Cecil  was  all  right  and  would  make  a  good 
husband,  but  Violet  said  nothing,  which  only  made 
her  the  more  miserable.  Her  heart' burst  to  tell  her 
secret,  but  she  dare  not.  If  she  could  but  see  Agnes 
and  relieve  herself  of  her  load,  she  would  give  all  she 
possessed.  She  would  get  in  the  carriage  and  go,  but 
she  would  have  to  pass  Cecil's  home,  and  that  would 
give  her  away:  so  she  must  smother  the  burning  flame 
within  her  breast. 

School  is  now  about  to  close,  and  John's  mother  is 
sick,  and  he  is  anxious  to  return.  John's  mother  re 
called  to  George  the  sadness  of  her  son  when  he  left 
home,  and  wondered  why  it  was.  George  remarked 
that  it  might  be  a  love  affair,Jbut  said  no  more.  As 
the  school  neared  a  close,  days  were  as  months.  His 
mother  was  growing  weaker,  and  John  must  go  home 
to  see  her.  George  notifies  him  of  his  mother's  con 
dition,  and  informs  him  that  she  is  only  convalescent, 
and  to  fear  not,  for  he  will  care  for  her. 

John  remains  at  school  until  its  close,  and  gradu 
ates.  He  then  packs  his  things  for  home — the  dear 
est  spot  to  him  on  earth!  No  one  knows  what  home 
is  until  away  in  a  distant  land,  and  let  remorse  come 
over  them,  or  get  disheartened — and  John  has  experi 
enced  all  of  this.  His  goods  are  expressed  to  the 
wharf,  and  John  embarks  on  a  great  Atlantic  steamer 
for  Xew  Orleans,  where  he  takes  a  Mississippi  steam 
boat  for  home.  He  arrives  at  Fairmount  station,  and 


20  INDIANA. 

George  is  there,  according  to  a  prearrangement  which 
they  had  consummated.  John  asks  George  to  go  hy 
way  of  Oaken,  so  that  he  may  see  Agnes  and  learn  all 
ahout  Violet  that  he  can.  They  arrive  at  Oaken  and 
they  go  in,  and  his  cousin  and  aunt  are  glad  to  see 
them.  John  asks  Agnes  ahout  Violet,  and  Agnes 
tells  him  she  is  the  finest  lady  she  ever  met,  so  nice 
and  accomplished.,  but  that  he  may  have  hard  work  to 
win  her,  and  that  Cecil  is  still  keeping  her  company. 
Agnes  tells  him  she  Is  a  perfect  type  of  womanhood. 
John  then  requests  Agnes  to-  visit  Violet  frequently, 
and  to  give  her  his  hest  respects,  and  inform  her  of 
how  much  admiration  he  has  for  her,  and  that  he  will 
he  very  reticent,  and  that  he 'thinks  he  can  succeed 
hettcr  in  that  way,  as  it  will  deceive  Cecil  and  Fay  if 
lie  is  not  seen  ahout  Queenstown.  It  will  he  hard  for 
him  to  stay  away,  hut  he  has  great  will-power  and  can 
control  himself  in  that  matter,  lie  also  requests  her 
to  visit  him  soon  at  Kingston,  and  that  his  mother 
will  he  glad  to  see  her. 

lie  then  starts  for  home,  where  he  finds  his  mother 
improving  in  health,  and  she  is  very  glad  to  see  him, 
and  to  give  the  management  of  the  estate  over  to  him 
and  relieve  her  mind  from  its  care.  The  mother  is 
glad  to  know  that  her  son  is  a  graduate,  and  thinks 
she  sees  a  hright  future  before  him,  for,  as  Solomon 
has  said,  "A  wise  son  maketh  a  glad  father,"  it  follows 
that  the  mother  would  he  glad  also, 


LOYK   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  21 

John  looks  over  the  estate  to  see  what  is  needed, 
but  his  mind  is  not  content,  and  he  often  finds  him 
self  wandering  as  if  in  dreamland.  He  has  never 
been  in  such  a  condition  before,  and  he  thinks  it  is  on 
account  of  his  affection  for  Violet,  and  he  is  contem 
plating  as  to  how  he  will  propose  to  her,  and  he  wants 
to  do  it  in  the  best  manner  that  he  possibly  can.  He 
sends  for  Agnes  to  come  and  visit  him  at  the  castle, 
and  then  he  thinks  he  may  see  some  way  out  of  the 
difficulty.  George  is  dispatched  for  Agnes,  and  told 
to  call  on  Violet  as  he  returns,  and  have  Agnes  to 
converse  with  her  and  tell  her  of  his  unrest  of  mind, 
and  that  he  must  see  her  soon.  AYhen  George  reaches 
Agnes's  house  she  is  as  happy  as  a  lark  and  pleased  to 
make  the  visit.  Her  mother  assists  her  to  get  ready 
and  gives  her  permission  to  stay  for  a  fortnight. 
When  they  are  ready  they  are  off  for  the  visit.  They 
soon  arrive  at  Violet's  home,  and  find  the  same  grand 
personage  busy  with  the  things  about  her  home. 
Violet  welcomes  them  in,  and  George  makes  the  ac 
quaintance  of  Mrs.  Payne  and  converses  with  her 
while  Agnes  talks  with  Violet,  and  speaks  to  her  about 
John  and  his  condition  of  mind,  and  says  that  she  may 
send  for  her  while  she  is  at  the  Arno  castle,  and  she 
consents  to  come.  Violet  sends  her  best  respects  to 
John,  and  her  picture.  Mrs.  Payne  thinks  strange  of 
this  proceeding,  and  begins  to  question  Violet  about 
their  calling:  but  she  has  a  level  head,  and  avoids  the 


22  INDIANA. 

matter  by  telling  her  mother  that  it  was  only  a 
friendly  visit.  But  Mrs.  Payne  is  not  perfectly  satis 
fied  in  her  own  mind. 

Cieorge  and  Agnes  go  on  to  the  Arno  home,  and 
find  John  and  Mrs.  Arno  very  glad  to  see  them. 
What  a  bright,  cheerful  girl  Agnes  is!  It  makes  one 
happy  to  he  in  her  presence,  and  Mrs.  Arno  is  much 
better  by  Agnes's  coming  to  see  her.  As  soon  as 
Agnes  and  Mrs.  Arno  converse  awhile,  John  seeks  an 
opportunity  to  speak  to  her  about  Violet.  They  go 
to  the  parlor,  and  while  looking  at  the  pictures  on  the 
center  table  John  asks  about  Violet.  Agnes  tells 
John  that  Violet  sent  her  best  respects  to  him,  and, 
opening  her  valise,  took  out  a  picture  and  gave  it  to 
him,  and  a  mingled  feeling  of  surprise  and  wonder 
came  over  him.  His  mind  is  carried  back  by  the 
beautiful  photograph  to  the  little  hillock  where  first 
he  saw  her  standing  like  a  beautiful  flower  which  the 
dew  of  morn  had  caressed,  and,  standing  among  these 
beautiful  environments,  the  brilliant  rays  of  the  sun 
only  added  splendor  to  the  scene  that  he  beheld;  and, 
recovering  himself,  he  said: 

"Agnes,  this  is  the  most  beautiful  picture  that  I 
ever  saw.  It  is  so  like  Violet — so  anodest,  so  charm 
ing.  She  is  the  only  lady  that  I  ever  met  whose 
personal  appearance  has  had  such  a  control  over  me. 
She  has  changed  my  whole  life.  You  know  how  I 
used  to  ramble  in  the  woods  and  dells  by  myself,  and 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  23 

perfectly  liappy:  but  now  1  am  not.  I  must  see  Violet 
soon,  or  I  fear  that  Cecil  will  overcome  her  and  make 
my  life  miserable.  I  have  trusted  to  you,  Agnes,  my 
most  profound  secrets,  and  relied  on  you  to  secure  the 
information  which  would  win  me  the  prize  and  make 
me  happy.  I  hope  you  have  done  all  you  could,  for 
there  is  no  other  person  I  would  like  to  trust  so 
well." 

Agnes  thanks  him  for  the  confidence  which  he 
places  in  her.  She  assures  him  that  what  she  tells 
him  is  true,  and  that  he  can  win  her  if  he  only  pro 
ceeds  in  earnest  before  she  would  consent  to  wed 
Cecil,  and  that  she  has  been  delaying  to  answer  Cecil 
to  hear  from  him.  So  he  arranges  to  go  and  see  her 
and  find  out  some  of  her  parentage,  and  become  better 
convinced  of  her  beauty  and  surroundings.  So  he 
gets  ready  and  goes  on  Thursday.  He  thinks  it  is  a 
lucky  day,  and  that  he  may  avoid  meeting  Cecil,  as 
he  would  be  likely  to  be  there  on  Sunday,  for  he  has 
not  ceased  to  woo  her. 

When  John  arrives  he  sees  her  at  a  distance  water 
ing  the  beautiful  lawn  which  surrounds  the  nrat  little 
country  home.  She  knows  him,  and  quits  her  work 
and  comes  to  meet  him.  They  greet  each  other  very 
cheerfull}r,  and  talk  of  the  pleasant  day,  and  of  the 
most  cheerful  things  one  could  think  of.  She  tells 
him  she  is  so  glad  that  he  came,  as  she  had  wanted  to 
see  him  for  so  long  and  talk  of  their  first  happy  meet- 


24  INDIANA. 

ing,  which  seemed  to  her  like  a  miracle.  He  cannot 
help  l.)ii t  show  his  appreciation  of  her,  and  she  knows 
full  well  how  to  act,  which  adds  to  her  personal 
charms.  He  is  invited  into  the  house  and  introduced 
to  ]\Irs.  Payne,  who  receives  him  with  kindness.  This 
is  the  first  time  she  has  ever  seen  him,  hut  now  she 
knows  what  has  made  'Violet  act  so  strange  with 
Cecil.  She  can't  help  hut  admire  the  manly  courage 
and  conversation  of  John.  His  very  demeanor  is  par 
excellence,  which  makes  him  attractive  to  anyone. 

3Irs.  Payne  converses  with  him  awhile,  and  then 
retires  from  the  room  and  leaves  Violet  alone  with 
him.  They  spend  the  time  pleasantly,  talking  of  the 
many  beautiful  things  which  they  saw  the  day  of  their 
ramble  along  the  river.  John  relates  many  things 
which  occurred  at  Boston  during  his  stay  there,  and 
the  life  of  one  in  the  city,  and  of  the  gay  people  in 
their  gaudy  dre^s.  But  presently  the  conversation 
changes  to  friendship  affairs.  John  relates  to  her 
that  he  has  heard  that  she  has  another  suitor,  and  she 
acknowledges  that  she  has,  and  that  he  is  nice,  kind 
and  agreeable,  but  that  she  has  greater  admiration 
for  him  than  Cecil,  and  that  she  did  "not  desire  to 
mistreat  him,  and  that  she  only  used  courtesy  in  go 
ing  with  him.  John  acts  in  his  selfsame  manner,  and 
says  no  harm  of  Cecil,  as  some  rivals  are  won!  to  do 
John  i<  perfect  in  the  art  of  reading  human  nature, 
and  knows  that  the  least  said  the  easier  mended,  and 


LOVE   AMONG    THE   MISTLETOE.  25 

that  stillness  makes  a  Aviso  head.  It  is  in  this  way 
that  he  has  had  such  an  influence  over  the  object  of 
his  love,  for  she  could  not  resist  his  manly  composure, 
for  it  Avas  a  tell-tale  expression  which  lingered  long 
in  her  heart.  It  shows  that  it  is  true  that  persons,  on 
meeting,  either  like  or  dislike.  There  are  certain 
features  that  charm  the  Avindows  of  the  soul  Avhich 
cannot  be  resisted,  lie  does  not  ask  her  to  quit  going 
with  Cecil,  but  leaves  that  to  her  pleasure.  He  says 
that  he  may  give  her  an  invitation  to  visit  him  at  the 
castle  Avhile  Agnes  is  there,  and  she  says  she  Avould 
he  pleased  to  do  so,  and  says  that  she  admires  the 
scenes  along  the  river,  and  especially  the  great  bridge, 
Avhere  she  had  stood  for  hours  and  hours  watching  the 
fish  jump  up  out  of  the  Avater.  He  requests  her  not 
to  tell  anyone  of  his  visit,  and  that  stillness  is  the  best, 
and  that  it  Avill  allay  gossip.  He  speaks  Avell  of  her 
widowed  mother,  and  thanks  her  for  the  kindness 
Avhich  he  had  received  at  her  home.  Then  he  gets 
ready  to  return  home,  and  Violet  goes  with  him  to  the 
gate,  Avhere  they  hid  each  other  good-bye  in  the  way 
which  is  the  custom  of  lovers.  John  leaves  no  en 
gagement,  as  he  expects  'to  see  her  at  his  home  some 
time  soon. 

He  returns  home  better  pleased  than  ever,  as  he 
thinks  that  lie  is  all  right.  He  tells  Agnes  ail  about 
how  <he  received  him, -and  that  she  is  the  means  of 
his  success,  and  that  she  still  must  assist  him,  and  that 


26  INDIANA. 

he  has  made  arrangements  for  Violet  to  visit  them 
while  she  is  with  them. 

"Good!"  says  Agnes.     "When  do  you  expect  her?'' 

"I  do  not  know/'  said  John.  "I  intend  to  send 
3  m  after  her." 

"I  would  be  pleased  to  go,"  said  Agnes. 

ISTow,  Agnes  is  the  means  by  which  John  seeks  to 
get  Violet  to  come  to  their  home.  John's  mother  is 
not  so  well  as  usual.,  and  detains  her  son  about  the 
house,  which  affords  him  an  opportunity  to  plan  with 
Agnes  for  Violet's  coming  to  see  them. 

Cecil  goes  to  see  her  on  Sunday,  and  is  treated  very 
kindly,  and  he  spends  a  pleasant  evening,  and  talks 
very  affectionately;  but  Violet  tells  him  she  has  not 
yet  made  up  her  mind.  She  does  not  tell  him  of 
John's  visit,  and  does  not  intend  to  now;  but  she  fears 
Fay  may  find  it  out.  She  has  confidence  in  Cecil, 
and  thinks  if  John  proposes  she  can  make  things  all 
right  with  him,  as  he  is  a  perfect  gentleman.  Her 
mother  thinks  strange  of  her  keeping  company  with 
two  such  nice  gentlemen,  and  says  she  had  better  let 
one  go;  but  she  uses  her  own  pleasure  in  the  matter. 

Cecil  returns  home  happy  and  calls  on  Fay,  and 
asks  her  to  visit  Violet  at  her  first  opportunity  and 
get  any  information  that  she  can,  thinking  that  some 
word  may  be  dropped  that  he  may  interpret  for  his 
good.  Fay  goes  immediately  to  visit  Violet,  and  find^ 
her  as  cheerful  as  usual.  They  talk  at  the  house  for 


LOVE  AMONG  THE  MISTLETOE.  27 

awhile,  and  then  they  repair  to  the  grove  near  by, 
where  everything  is  lovely,  and  there  talk  things 
which  they  desire  to  he  kept  a  secret.  They  talk  of 
their  friends  and  old  times,  which  they  desire  to  re 
call  as  they  grow  older  and  they  see  the  world  or 
themselves  are  changing.  They  realize  that  time  is 
fleeting,  and  that  they  are  transformed  from  girls  to 
womanhood,  and  that  their  minds  are  changing  from 
trivial  things  to  reach  out  and  grapple  with  the  world. 
At  this  point  of  the  conversation  Fay  speaks  of  their 
lovers,  and  she  asks  Violet  if  she  thinks  of  Cecil  as  a 
future  companion,  and  Violet  says  she  has  not  yet  de 
termined,  as  that  is  a  serious  matter  and  must  have 
some  reflection.  Fay,  in  a  neat  way,  speaks  of  Cecil's 
character  as  being  good  and  above  reproach.  Violet 
lets  the  conversation  on  this  line  drop,  and  speaks  of 
the  coming  fashions,  and  what  she  would  like  to  have 
for  an  outing  dress.  It  is  now  evening,  and  Fay  must 
return  home,  defeated  in  her  purpose.  She  bids 
Violet  good-bye,  and  asks  her  to  visit  her.  Violet 
says  she  will,  and  asks  her  to  come  again. 

Violet  is  now  left  alone,  and  she  meditates  as  to 
how  hard  it  is  to  withstand  the  pressure  of  friends 
and  the  cunning  devices  which  are  sometimes  used 
which  reach  to  one's  very  soul.  She  loves  Fay,  but 
thinks  she  is  trying  to  pry  into  her  secrets  for  a  par- 
pose.  Violet  goes  about  her  work,  and  speaks  to  her 
mother  about  Fay  making  such  inquiries  about  her 


28  INDIANA. 

affections  for  Cecil.  She  tells  her  mother  how  she 
answered  her,  and  her  mother  told  her  she  had  done 
all  right. 

In  a  short  time  there  is  a  carriage  at  the  gate,  and  a 
man  and  a  lady  alighting.  She  cannot  think  who  it 
is.  She  watches  closely  to  ascertain  who  it  is,  but 
presently  the  doorbell  rings  and  Violet  opens  the 
door.  Tli en  she  recognizes  Agnes  and  George.  She 
shake.?  hands  with  George  and  kisses  Agnes.  She 
asks  them  to  be  seated.  Her  mother  comes  in  and 
recognizes  George  as  one  who  used  to  accompany  Mr. 
Arno  when  he  used  to  buy  stock,  and  Agnes  she 
knows,  as  she  only  lives  a  few  miles  away.  After  they 
pass  the  time  of  day  they  talk  of  social  matters  and 
the  pleasant  ride  they  had  just  taken,  when  Agnes 
relates  to  Violet  that  John  had  sent  for  her  to  come 
over  with  them  to  the  Arno  castle.  She  says  that 
she  will  do  so  with  pleasure,  and  speaks  to  her  mother 
'about  it.  Her  mother  grants  her  request  and  assists 
her  to  got  ready.  Everything  is  as  pleasant  as  possi 
ble,  and  Agnes  does  what  she  can  to  assist  Violet  to 
get  ready  to  go.  Violet's  mother  thinks  all  may  not 
be  well,  and  meditates  what  to  do.  So  she  picks  up 
courage  and  asks  if  she  may  accompany  them.  Their 
hearts  beat  with  joy  as  they  tell  her  certainly,  she  will 
be  welcome.  So  they  set  about  to  assist  her  to  get  in 
readiness  to  go,  and  she  makes  arrangements  to  stay 
for  a  day  or  two,  as  she  does  not  know  how  long  they 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  29 

may  be  gone.  When  all  is  ready  they  repair  to  the 
carriage,  and  Violet  and  her  mother  occupy  the  rear 
seat,  and  Agnes  and  George  in  front.  One  could  not 
help  but  admire  Agnes,  for  she  is  as  cheerful  as  a  lark 
on  a  June  morning,  and  her  mind  flits  from  one  thing 
to  another  as  they  glide  along  over  the  pike.  There 
are  many  beautiful  landscapes  as  they  pass  along,  and 
Violet  is  able  to  explain  them  all  to  her  mother,  for 
she  has  seen  them  many  times  before.  It  is  a  long 
ride,  but  the  horses  are  fleet  and  they  go  along  very 
lively.  They  speed  along,  up  hill  and  down,  and  over 
the  level  plain,  and  the  pleasant  conversation  of  the 
young  people  recalls  to  Mrs.  Payne  very  vividly  her 
childhood  days,  when  she  too  was  fond  of  such  excur 
sions.  They  soon  come  in  sight  of  the  great  resi 
dence  of  the  Arnos,  situated  on  a  distant  hill  amidst 
picturesque  scenery.  There  is  a  great  chasm  between 
them  and  the  residence,  where  runs  the  clear  waters 
of  Rock  River,  spanned  by  the  great  bridge  where 
Violet  had  been  many  times  before,  and  of  which  she 
had  told  her  mother;  but  she  had  never  been  at  the 
residence  on  the  hill,  where  now  she  was  going.  They 
soon  must  cross  the  bridge  and  reach  their  destina 
tion.  The  horses'  feet  are  now  popping  on  the 
bridge,  and  they  look  out  and  see  some  one  looking  at 
them.  Violet  is  certain  that  she  knows  who  it  is,  but 
she  says  nothing.  They  reach  the  ascent  and  wind 
slowly  up  the  hill  to  the  iron  gate,  where  John  is 


80  INDIANA. 

ready  to  receive  them.     John  now  sees  that  he  is  cap 
tivated,  and  repeats  these  beautiful  linos: 
Here  on  the  hill  doth  stand 
The  stateliest  mansion  in  all  the  land, 
.A  fairy  home  with  lawns  of  green, 
Where  reigns  a  peasant  romance  queen — 
Not  alone  of  flowers  and  dells, 
But  of  the  heart  of  one  as  well. 
They  are  invited  in  and  introduced  to  Mrs.  Arno, 
who  is  still  convalescent,  but  she  asks  them  to  lay  off 
their  things  and  make  themselves  comfortable.     Mrs. 
Arno  is  surprised  with  the  beauty  of  Yiokt,  and  at 
the  attention  which  her  son  pays  to  her.     The  bouse 
is  beautifully  arranged  and  furnished  in  grand  style. 
It  is  nicer  than  Violet  has  ever  seen.     Mrs.  Arno  sets 
herself  about  entertaining  Mrs.  Payne,  and  they  be 
come  warm  friends.     She  leaves  the  young  people  to 
take    care    of    themselves.     They    seat    themselves 
around  the  center  table  and  look  at  the  pictures,  and 
Violet  comes  to  one  taken  when  a  boy,  and  looks  it 
over  and  over.     John  remarks:  "That  is  your  friend." 
"So  I  see,"  said  Violet.     Agnes  is  as  gay  as  ever,  and 
now  and  then  gets  in  a  bit  of  fun.     John  thinks  it  is 
near  time  for  him  to  propose,  but  his  heart  ebbs  quite 
low.  and  he  thinks  that  he  can  hear  it  beat  against  his 
breast.     Agnes  can  see  that  there  is  a  struggle  going 
on  in  John's  breast,  and  would  leave  them  alone  if 
she  could  excuse  herself,     Jt  is  nearing  meal  time, 


LOVE  AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  31 

and  she  has  to  assist,  so  she  gets  an  opportunity  for 
retiring  from  the  room. 

John  talks  away  more  affectionately  than  ever,  and 
Violet  receives  it  with  pleasure.  They  are  by  them 
selves  until  dinner  time.  John  and  A'iolet  are  in 
vited  out  to  dine,  and  Agnes,  to  play  one  of  her  jokes, 
has  arranged  to  seat  John  and  Violet  together,  while 
Mrs.  Arno  and  Mrs.  Payne  are  seated  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  and  Agnes  sits  opposite  to  John  and  Violet. 
The  viands  are  served,  and  all  are  cheerful.  Agnes 
now  and  then  takes  a  look  at  the  young  coupie,  as  if 
to  say,  "How  pretty  you  are!  You  resemble  two 
young  doves  on  the  14-th  of  February."  All  this  is 
flitting  through  her  mind,  and  John  and  Violet  can 
read  it  all,  but  it  only  adds  beauty  to  the  occasion. 
All  this  cunning  mischief  seems  to  be  good  morals,  for 
it  is  a  part  of  human  nature,  and  Agnes  has  more 
than  her  share  of  such  fun. 

When  dinner  is  over  they  repair  to  the  parlor,  and 
Agnes  excuses  herself  to  assist  in  clearing  the  table 
and  to  wash  the  dishes.  Now,  the  two  old  people 
seem  to  have  strange  feelings  coming  over  them,  but 
neither  speaks  to  the  other  about  it.  They  think 
Providence  has  thrown  these  two  people  together,  but 
do  no-t  dream  as  to  how  it  will  terminate. 

While  they  are  left  alone  the  spark  of  love  shines 
out  brighter  and  brighter.  John  desires  to  be  manly, 
and  thinks  some  favorite  scene  of  hers  of  which  he 


32  INDIANA. 

lias  learned  would  be  the  best  place  to  ask  her  hand, 
and  where  they  can  be  all  alone.  You  have  possibly 
learned  that  the  pulse  beats  at  low  tide  just  at  such 
times  when  true  love  is  bursting  the  anticipating 
heart.  So  John  asks  her  to  take  a  walk,  and  she  ac 
cepts,  and  they  go  down  to  the  great  bridge  and  walk 


THE    BRIDGE    ENGAGEMENT. 


out  to  the  middle  of  it,  where  they  pause  and  look  at 
the  waters  running  beneath,  a  living  stream,  where  it 
teems  with  great  schools  of  fish,  and  now  and  then 
one  jumps  up  out  of  the  water  and  then  drops  back 
into  the  river.  Here  the  shrubbery  which  lines  the 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  33 

banks  of  the  stream  is  a  living  echo  of  birds  warbling 
their  sweetest  songs.  It  seems  to  John  that  they 
know  his  feelings  and  are  singing  songs  of  cheer.  So 
in  this  favored  spot  he  tells  her  that  it  is  a  long  lane 
that  has  no  turn — meaning  his  course  in  life — and 
that  he  is  thinking  of  a  change.  He  then  asks  her  if 
she  would  be  willing  to  join  him  on  life's  billowy 
wave.  She  responds,  cheerfully:  '''With  pleasure." 
He  then  raised  her  left  hand  and  placed  upon  the  ring 
finger  a  ring,  signifying  love  without  end.  He  then  said: 

"'Violet,  you  see  that  we  are  standing  on  fins  bridge 
which  connects  these  two  great  bodies  of  land  above 
these  living  waters.  So  this  tie  which  we  have  been 
contracting  must  plight  our  hopes  forever,  bridging 
over  the  great  chasm  where  rolls  life's  raging  river." 

Violet  then  said:  "If  storms  do  come,  we  know 
that  harmony  binds  worlds  together/' 

Then  they  return  to  the  house  in  settled  mind. 
They  seek  the  presence  of  the  two  mothers,  where 
John  says: 

"Mrs.  Payne,  I  desire  your  daughter's  hand  in  nmr- 
riage." 

She  is  somewhat  surprised,  but  says:  "If  it  pleases 
you." 

John  turns  to  his  mother  and  says: 

"Mother,  I  have  not  consulted  you,  but  I  know  you 
have  always  desired  me  to  be  happy,  and  I  know  you 
could  not  object  to  my  betrothal  to  Violet." 


34  INDIANA. 

"My  son,  I  had  desired  you  to  marry  a  lady  of 
wealth,  but  beauty  is  much  ir.ore  desirable  with  a  con 
tented  mind  than  treasures  of  gold.  So,  my  son,  you 
have  done  well." 

The  two  families  are  united.  They  talk  over  the 
wedding  day  and  other  arrangements,  and  agree  to 
marry  at  the  Arno  home,  for  it  is  large  ai-d  com 
modious.  They  speak  of  the  bridesmaids,  and  Violet 
selects  Agnes  as  one,  and  John  is  at  a  loss  to  know 
who  to  select  as  a  groomsman;  so  Violet  asks  how 
Cecil,  her  old  lover,  would  do.  John  consents  to  him 
if  he  will  accept  of  the  duty.  But  she  is  in  a  quan 
dary  as  to  how  he  will  receive  her  engagement  to 
John,  but.  however,  she  will  try  and  see  when  all  the 
arrangements  are  settled. 

The  carriage  is  made  ready,  and  Violet  and  her 
mother  get  ready  to  go  home,  and  Agnes  agrees  to 
stay  a  few  days  longer.  John  escorts  Violet  and  her 
mother  to  the  carriage.  They  bid  the  folks  good-bye 
and  seat  themselves  in  the  carriage.  John  is  going 
to  take  them,  so  as  to  make  still  further  arrangements. 
When  they  get  ready  to  go  Agnes  again  in  her  glee 
says,  "Good-bye,  pets,'"  and  then  they  start  for  home. 
They  arrive  at  home  about  noon,  and  John  puts  up 
his  horse  until  after  dinner,  lie  makes  the  proper 
arrangements,  and  they  set  the  wedding  day  for  the 
second  Thursday  in  June,  which  would  give  -them 
two  weeks  to  make  ready.  John  returns  home  and 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  35 

talks  with  Agnes  about  the  arrangements  which  they 
had  made,  and  requests  her  to  assist  Violet  to  get 
ready,  and  she  agrees  to  do  so. 

Agnes  gets  ready  to  go  home,  and  George  is  sent 
with  her.  They  are  to  stop  at  Violet's  on  the  way 
and  see  her  about  the  arrangements  with  Cecil.  lie 
has  been  over  on  Sunday  evening,  and  he  sees  the 
ring  on  Violet's  finger,  and  concludes  she  is  engaged, 
lie  does  not  ask  her  about  it,  but  she,  when  an  oppor 
tunity  offers,  tells  him  in  what  high  esteem  she  al 
ways  held  him,  and  could  sec  no  fault  in  him,  but 
that  she  was  engaged  to  another  who  she  thought  had 
greater  personal  charms,  and  that  she  still  desired  his 
friendship,  and  that  if  he  would,  it  was  agreeable  to 
have  him  act  as  groomsman,  by  her  request.  He 
could  not  but  feel  honored,  and  thanked  her,  and 
agreed  to  her  request.  She  tells  him  when  the  wed 
ding  will  be,  and  he  gets  ready  to  go  home,  bidding 
her  good  night,  lie  goes  away  with  a  light  heart, 
but  cannot  think  evil  of  Violet. 

On  the  next  day  George  and  Agnes  arrive,  and  . 
Violet  sends  John  word  about  what  she  has  done,  and 
it  is  accepted.  Agnes  goes  on  home  to  prepare  for 
the  coming  event.  Violet  is  to  wear  a  white  silk 
dress,  trimmed  in  lace,  and  John  is  to  have  a  black 
Prince  Albert  suit,  and  the  room  is  to  be  decorated 
with  beautiful  Southern  (lower-.  ("Veil  is  to  bring 
Agnes,  who  is  to  be  introduced  to  him  by  Violet,  and 


36  INDIANA. 

John  is  to  go  for  Violet  himself.  It  takes  a  great  deal 
of  time  to  get  ready,  for  there  are  a  great  many  friends 
expected,  arid  ample  accommodations  must  be  fur 
nished  for  all. 

When  the  day  arrives,  the  guests  have  all  heen  in 
vited,  and  they  gather  in  at  the  Arno  castle  to  witness 
the  ceremony.  The  minister  is  there,  and  yonder 
on  the  hill  are  two  carriages.  In  the  front 
one  are  John  and  Violet  and  her  mother,  and 
behind  are  Cecil  and  Agnes.  When  they  arrive  they 
are  introduced  to  the  assemblage,  and  the  people 
vie  with  each  other  as  to  which  is  the  most  beautiful 
couple. 

When  all  is  ready  they  take  their  places  under  the 
large  flower  arch,  John  and  Cecil  on  the  right,  and 
Violet  and  Agnes  on  the  left.  Then  the  minister 
steps  forward  and  says  the  marriage  ceremony  in  a 
sweet,  audible  tone.  When  the  ceremony  is  over,  the 
people  pass  around  and  congratulate  the  young 
couple,  and  wish  them  a  happy  life,  ami  the  marriage 
presents  are  presented  to  them.  Cecil  has  been  as 
cheerful  as  anyone,  and  jestingly  remarked:  '  I  wish 
it  were  Agnes  and  I."  Then  that  wit  of  Agnes's 
again  flashed  forth:  "May  it  be  so."  But  nothing 
more  was  thought  of  it.  John  and  Violet  are  to 
occupy  the  old  homestead  and  see  to  the  estate.  The 
guests  return  to  their  homes,  speculating  on  the  affair 
as  to  the  two  beautiful  couples.  Cecil  takes  Agnes 


LOVE    AMONG   THE    MISTLETOE.  37 


home  and  leaves  an  engagement,  ±Yr  she  really  is  fond 
of  him. 

John  is  now  happy  with  Violet,  and  wishes  to  see 
others  happy  also.  They  get  Mrs.  Payne  to  agree  to 
live  with  them,  and  John  sets  about  improving  the 
estate.  There  is  a  great  deal  more  to  he  done  than 
either  John  or  Violet  expected,  as  they  have  had  little 
experience  in  self-snstainance;  but  they  get  along  very 
well,  for  they  have  studied  each  other's  nature  and 
know  full  well  how  to  hear  and  forbear. 

Violet  is  anxious  to  hear  from  Agnes  and  know  how 
she  is  getting  along,  so  she  writes  her  a  letter,  teiling 
her  how  she  likes  her  new  home,  and  how  pleasant  it 
is  to  have  a  home  of  her  own  r.nd  to  be  interested  in 
their  own  welfare.  She  likes  John's  mother  very 
much,  for  she  is  a  grand  old  lady,  so  friendly  and 
sociable.  Violet's  mother  also  likes  her  new  home, 
but  cannot  forget  where  she  has  lived  for  so  many 
years.  She  closes  by  thanking  her  for  past  favors. 

Agnes  is  glad  to  receive  this  letter  from  her  cousin, 
and  to  know  that  she  is  so  well  pleased,  and  that 
everything  is  agreeable  to  her.  Agnes  relates  that 
her  trip  with  Cecil  was  very  pleasant,  and  that  he 
held  no  envy  toward  her,  and  that  he  considered  it 
an  honor  to  be  present  at  her  marriage.  Fay  missed 
her  friend  very  much,  as  they  were  together  a  great 
deal,  and  were  nearly  like  sisters.  She  also  relates 
that  Cecil  made  an  engagement  with  her,  and  that 


88  INDIANA. 

she  had  formed  a  good  opinion  of  him,  for  he  was  so 
polite  and  manly. 

John  lias  become  more  like  his  father,  settled  in 
his  habits,  and  making  large  gains  in  his  business. 
John's  mother  sees  that  he  is  successful,  and  she  turns 
all  the  estate  over  to  him.  Violet  is  now  mistress 
indeed,  and  shares  in  all  things.  She  waits  on  John's 
mother  with  much  care,  for  she  is  getting  very  feeble, 
and  she  tries  to  make  her  last  days  her  best  ones. 

Cecil  has  been  to  see  Agnes,  and  spent  a  social 
evening  with  -her.  That  natural  wit  makes  a  cheer 
ful  atmosphere  to  move  in,  and  Cecil  found  that  out 
at  the  wedding  of  John  and  Violet,  when  his  jest  was 
answered  so  appropriately.  Xow,  Agnes  is  not  a  lady 
to  trifle  with  one's  affections,  and  then  jilt  them.  She 
is  only  a  natural  humorist,  and  the  flash  words  ripple 
off  her  tongue  like  water  over  a  pebbly  ledge,  and  are 
in  harmony  with  the  associability  of  the  company. 
Cecil  thinks  himself  a  conquerer  to  be  able  to  asso 
ciate  with  her.  His  own  turn  is  in  that  direction — 
great  in  the  art  of  entertaining;  never  «t  a  loss  for 
something  to  say,  and  speaks  according  to  ethics.  In 
some  this  is  acquired;  in  others  natural,  and  is  more 
affable.  These  twain  are  natural. 

Cecil  visits  Fay,  because  she  has  been  so  kind  to 
him,  and  she  tells  him  how  lonesome  she  has  been 
since  Violet  has  been  married  and  gone.  He  relates 
to  her  his  acquaintance  with  Agnes  Percy,  and  asks 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE,  39 


her  to  become  acquainted  with  her,  and  he  calls  Agnes 
his  "funny  girl." 

Xow,  Violet  was  of  a  still  reflective  nature,  and  so 
was  John  Arno.  Cecil  says  he  is  going  over  on  Sun 
day  afternoon,  and  asks  Fay  to  go  along,  and  that  he 
will  introduce  her  to  Agnes.  'When  the  d;iy  comes  Fay 
is  ready  and  goes  with  him.  Agnes  sees  them  com;::g 
and  says  to  1  erself,  "You'll  lo:e  your  sweetheart, 
Cecil."  But  not  so.  lie  explains  all  to  her,  and  she 
is  more  than  pleased  that  he  brought  her.  The  day 
is  spent  in  pleasure,  and  Agnes  is  queen  of  the  party. 
It  is  a  high-spirited  company,  and  Cecil  thinks  the 
flowers  are  heightened  and  more  beautiful,  and  that 
he  himself  lias  more  dignity  when  in  her  presence 
When  the  day  is  spent,  Cecil  leaves  a  future  engage 
ment  and  bids  Agnes  good-bye,  and  the  two  ladies  do 
likewise,  and  Agnes  asks  Fay  to  call  again.  They 
are  soon  on  the  road  home,  and  conversing  on  the 
events  of  (he  day  and  the  pleasures  which  they  had 
enjoyed.  Fay  savs:  "Cecil.  Ague-  is  a  pri/e,  deli 
cate  and  handsome."  Cecil  is  aware  of  this,  and  has 
his  cap  sot  to  win  her,  but  does  not  let  it  be  known, 
and  brings  everything  to  bear  in  that  direction.  He 
knows  that  she  is  a  cousin  of  John  Arno's,  and  had 
lent  her  influence  to  him  with  Violet.  But  what  of 
that?  She  had  a  right  to;  and  Ague-  know-  by  Violet 
all  of  Cecil's  surroundings,  although  not  acquainted 
at  that  time. 


40  INDIANA. 

Cecil  is  buoyed  on  by  ber  graceful  manners,  and 
tbeir  frequent  meetings  ripen  into  real  love.  There 
may  be  love  at  first  sight,  but  it  requires  time  to  dis 
cover  the  real  and  natural  outpourings  of  the  heart, 
such  as  would  cau>e  one  to  cling  to  another  until 
death  would  separate  them. 

Cecil  and  Agnes  make  arrangements  to  pay  John 
and  Violet  a  visit  at  their  new  home,  and  see  the 
beautiful  resort,  and  have  a  pleasure  trip.  They  are 
surprised  at  the  castle  to  see  Agnes  and  Cecil.  They 
did  not  know  they  were  such  good  friends,  but  were 
glad  to  see  them.  John  treats  Cecil  with  great  re 
spect,  which  only  served  to  closer  attach  them  as 
friends.  Violet  treats  Agnes  very  hospitably,  show 
ing  her  much  courtesy,  and  remarked: 

'•'Who's  pets  now?'' 

"Not  I,"  said  Agnes;  ''we're  lovers.     Are  you:''' 

"Excuse  me  then,  Agnes." 

"Certainly,  you're  excusable." 

All  this  was  pleasing  conversation  between  these 
fast  friends.  They  all  take  a  ramble  along  the  river, 
and  enjoy  it  very  much.  Then  Cecil  and  Agnes  re 
turn  home,  pleased  with  their  trip,  and  leave  John 
and  Violet  to  conjecture  about  them  and  the  outcome 
of  the  future. 

Their  courtship  ripens  into  still  closer  affections, 
and  Cecil  is  thinking  of  asking  Agnes  for  her  hand 
and  heart.  He  knows  how  lively  she  is.  and  lie  is  a 


LOVE   A.MOXG  THE   MISTLETOE.  41 

little  delicate  about  the  way  he  will  do  that.  It  is 
some  worry  to  him,  and  he  knows  how  cute  and  cun 
ning  she  is,  and  if  not  accepted  she  might  reply  in  a 
stinging  way  which  would  let  him  down  heavy;  but 
then  he  knows  she  never  tells  secrets,  and  that  no  one 
will  know  what  is  said.  He  docs  not  think  she  might 
accept  in  the  same  manner,  but  that  would  be  all  the 
more  beautiful,  and  would  be  cherished  as  a  remem 
brance  of  the  past,  as  all  such  things  are  but  cheerful 
reflections. 

So  the  court-hip  ran  along  without  any  more  effort 
of  tliis  kind,  fur  it  seemed  to  be  a  puzzling  thing,  and 
Cecil  thought  nature  would  provide  a  way,  as  it  does 
in  everything  else,  as  sometimes  thoughtle-s  things 
are  signs  or  omens  of  (he  soul  and  may  be  grasped  as 
the  truth.  "And  it  may  be  that  I  may  depend  upon 
this,"  said  Cecil.  So  he  continues  spending  these 
social  evenings.  They  walk  up  and  down  the  road 
by  Mrs.  Percy's,  until  it  seems  that  everything  is  so 
familiar  that  it  almost  becomes  part  of  their  exist 
ence.  Cecil  enjoys  this,  for  he  is  somewhat  of  a  nat 
uralist  and  seeks  for  information,  but  he  never  loses 
his  thoughts  of  Agnes. 

Mrs.  Percy  never  troubles  herself  about  her  daugh 
ter,  only  that  she  sees  that  she  does  not  keep  late 
hours  at  night,  for  she  think-  that  is  detrimental  to 
society,  as  well  as  bad  manners.  Cecil  is  pleased  with 


42  INDIANA. 

this,  as  it  lias  been  a  part  of  his  culture  to  observe  the1 
rules  of  etiquette. 

As  the  time  whiled  by  they  are  seated  at  the  table 
looking  at  the  ornaments  and  fancied  treasures.  It 
enters  Cecil's  mind  that  he  will  write  a  few  words  on 
a  slip  of  paper  which  lays  on  the  table  near  him.  lie 
does  not  deem  it  necessary  to  sharpen  the  pencil,  for 
it  is  his  mental  proclivities  which  are  bothering  him 
just  now.  So  he  takes  the  pencil  and  writes  these 
words: 

"I  love  none  other  but  you." 

Then  he  handed  her  the  paper,  and  she  read  it 
with  care;  and  then  she  readied  for  the  pencil  and 
just  beneath  it  wrote: 

"And  that  I  see." 

lie  then  took  the  pencil  and  wrote  just  beneath: 
"1  will  to  you  be  true." 

And  then  she  wrote  just  beneath: 

"And  I  to  thee." 

Xo\v,  collecting  these  lines,  they  read  as  follows: 
"I  love  none  other  but  you," 

"And  that  1  see." 
'•'I  will  to  you  be  true," 
"And  I  to  thee." 

Xo\v,  this  was  a  beautiful  ver-e.  meaning  a  threat 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  4o 

deal,  but  Cecil  wished  to  be  certain  about  its  mean 
ing.  So  be  said  to  Agnes: 

"You  are  a  poet.     1  desired  truth,  not  poetry.'' 

"It  expresses  both,"  said  Agnes. 

And  she  then  discussed  poetry  as  presenting  the 
true  and  the  beautiful,  and  that  it  contained  harmony 
of  thought  and  harmony  of  purpose  with  a  sweet, 
gentle  rhythm,  or  else  there  was  no  poetry,  and  that 
it  remained  for  the  poets  with  the  outpourings  of  the 
soul  to  multiply  and  magnify  the  beautiful  of  earth. 
Then  he  was  satisfied  thr.t  it  expressed  the  feeling  of 
her  heart.  And  he  then  raised  her  left  hand  and 
placed  thereon  the  emblem  of  their  hearts. 

Mrs.  Tercy  is  consulted,  and  her  consent  is  ob 
tained;  then  all  is  well  with  Cecil,  and  they  set  about 
appointing  a  day  and  a  place  for  the  nuptials.  They 
settle  as  to  what  they  will  wear,  and  leave  the  day 
and  place  for  a  future  time.  They  think  it  would  be 
nice  if  they  could  be  joined  in  wedlock  at  the  Arno 
castle,  and  agree  to  ask  John  and  Violet  if  it  can  take 
place  there.  Agnes  is  to  write  to  them  about  the 
matter,  and  find  out  and  let  Cecil  know  in  time  to 
make  the  required  arrangements.  So  Agnes  writes 
them  about  it.  It  is  a  surprise  to  them,  but  it  is 
agreeable.  They  are  pleased  to  know  thai  Cecil  and 
Agnes  would  select  (heir  home  for  the  wedding.  They 
answer  Agnes's  letter,  and  tell  her  how  surprised  they 
are,  and  that  she  and  Cecil  will  be  welcome  to  anv- 


44  INDIANA. 

thing  which  they  can  do  for  them.  Agnes  conveys 
this  gratifying  news  to  Cecil,  who  then  goes  to  see 
John,  and  tells  him  what  he  would  like  to  have.  John 
receives  him  kindly,  and  arranges  the  same  room  for 
the  coming  event  that  he  had  arranged  for  himself. 
Cecil  and  Agnes  will  make  all  the  other  arrange 
ments  and  write  to  the  Arnos  about  it  and  tell  them 
the  time  set  for  the  wedding.  John  and  Violet  take 
li'reat  pains  to  decorate  the  rooms  beautifully  with 
flowers  and  ornaments,  and  make  a  large  arch  of 
(lowers  under  which  they  are  to  stand.  Cecil  has 
many  iriends,  and  all  are  invited  and  welcome. 

The  day  set  for  the  marriage  is  a  beautiful  one, 
and  great  preparation  has  been  made  by  Cecil.  The 
pike  leading  away  from  the  castle  is  lined  with  all 
kinds  of  vehicles.  At  the  appointed  hour  all  is  in 
readiness,  and  Cecil  and  Agnes  are  coming  in  a  coach, 
followed  by  throngs  of  people.  They  arrive  and  lead 
the  way  to  the  house  over  the  gravel  walk  which  lies 
between  two  rows  of  beautiful  Mower  beds,  which  lend 
their  sweetness  for  their  happiness.  They  are  ush 
ered  into  the  room  prepared  for  them,  and  they  take 
the  place  assigned  to  them  amidst  throng-  of  people, 
and  the  bridesmaids  and  groomsmen  assume  their 
duties.  When  the  parties  are  all  ready  the  minister 
is  brought  in,  and  he  advances  quickly  to  his  task  of 
uniting  them  by  the  proper  ceremony.  The  beauty 
of  the  occasion  is  when  they  are  asked  if  they  take 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  45 

each  other  to  be  husband  and  wife.  The  response 
was  low,  but  it  echoed  through  the  room,  which 
caused  a  solemnity  to  come  over  the  guests.  The 
couple  was  beautiful  beyond  description,  and  as  the 
guests  filed  around  to  congratulate  them,  you  could 
hear  remarks  of  "beautifful,"  "grand,"  "most  excel 
lent."  Violet  had  good  taste  for  art,  and  had  done 
her  best  in  the  arrangement  of  everything,  and  every 
thing  presented  perfect  harmony.  Many  gifts  were 
brought  for  them,  and  the  whole  presented  one  grand 
appearance.  John  Arno  Lad  not  forgotten  the  kind 
ness  of  his  cousin  Agnes,  and  he  presented  to  her 
$100  in  gold,  for  which  they  thanked  him  very  much. 
The  company  begin  to  separate  for  their  homes;  and 
how  grand  to  watch  them  as  they  filed  away  down  the 
pike  and  out  of  sight!  Could  Cecil  and  Agnes  help 
but  be  happy  when  John  and  Violet  had  done  .so  much 
for  them?  They  must  be  greater  friends.  The 
bride  and  groom  are  invited  to  spend  the  evening  at 
the  castle,  and  they  accept.  It  is  the  starting  of  a 
new  life  for  the  young  people,  and  they  desired  it  to 
be  indicative  of  their  future  life. 

On  the  morrow  they  return  to  Mrs.  Percy's  and 
arrange  to  go  to  housekeeping.  Cecil  is  a  merchant 
at  Queenstown,  and  does  a  good  business.  They 
take  a  short  trip  over  to  St.  Louis  and  spend  a  few 
days  in  pleasure  and  sight-seeing.  Then  Cecil  re 
turns  to  his  occupation  and  purchases  a  neat  resi- 


46  INDIANA. 

dence,  and  goes  to  housekeeping.  Xever  were  his 
prospects  brighter  or  his  life  more  happy.  Agnes  is 
pleased  with  her  new  home,  and  think.-  herself  much 
exalted  by  being  able  to  win  the  heart  of  such  a  man. 
Agnes  soon  becomes  acquainted  with  city  life,  and 
likes  it  very  well.  Her  winning  ways  and  conversa 
tion  make  her  a  great  favorite  in  city  society.  Now 
Cecil  goes  about  his  business  with  more  energy  than 
ever,  for  his  mind  is  free  and  he  is  contented.  His 
trade  increases,  and  he  accumulates  very  fast. 

Violet  writes  to  Agnes  to  come  over  and  spend  a 
few  days  with  her.  It  has  been  some  time  since  she 
has  heard  from  her.  So  Agnes  gets  ready  and  drives 
over  to  see  Violet,  for  she  thinks  from  the  tone  of  the 
letter  she  is  wanted  for  some  express  purpose,  and 
surely  it  was  so,  for  she  wanted  to  hear  from  her  and 
know  how  she  was  getting  along  at  Oucenstown,  for 

o  o  o  »  f 

that  was  her  old  home,  and  she  desired  to  know  about 
the  people  and  their  relation  to  the  world.  It  is  a 
nice  trip  for  Agnes,  and  gives  her  a  little  recreation, 
relieving  her  mind  from  domestic  cares.  She  relates 
the  comings  and  goings  of  her  old  neighbors,  which 
is  a  pleasant  relation  of  circumstances,  and  that  they 
have  a  nice  residence  on  Main  street  and  have  it  well 
furnished.  When  she  gets  ready  to  return  home 
Violet  asks  her  to  come  often,  and  that  she  will  return 
the  compliment. 

Agnes  goc-  back  to  Queenstown  pleased  with  her 


LOVE   AMONG   THE   MISTLETOE.  41 


visit,  and  finds  her  husband  glad  to  receive  her,  and 
lie  caresses  her  \vith  the  -ame  kindness  with  which  he 
had  always  greeted  her.  Agnes  is  the  ^anie  affection 
ate  lady.  ;;nd  her  short  visit  only  seemed  to  cemenl 
them  more  closely  together.  Cecil  thought,  as  he 
pillowed  his  head  upon  her  breast,  what  a  boon  it  is  to 
have  harmony  of  affections,  harmony  of  love,  and  the 
world  move  on  as  one  harmonious  whole.  lie,  with 
his  contented  he  ait,  cannot  Vanish  from  his  mind  the 
oft-repeated  words  that — 

"There  are   as  good  fish   in   the  sea  as  was  ever 
caught  out." 


48  INDIANA. 


BESSIE,  THE  BELLE  OF  ALAMO. 

In  a  quiet  little  village, 

Where  sweet  flowers  bloom  and  grow, 
Roams  the  fairest  of  sweet  maidens, 

Christened,  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 

Always  ready  with  an  answer, 

In  a  manner  mild,  but  low, 
Just  becoming  of  a  lady 

Like  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 

You  can  see  her  at  all  places, 

Cheeks  quite  reddened  to  a  glow, 

Modestly  bowing  to  her  lovers, 
Bessie,  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 

She  is  cheerful  to  a  pleasure, 
Where  adversities  come  and  go, 

Knowing  nothing  but  such  kindness 
Becoming  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 

She  never  flirts  with  transient  people, 
Xeither  hangs  on  the  gate  for  show, 

But  allures  by  charms  so  graceful, 
Bessie,  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 


SCENKS    IN    SCHOOL.  -41) 


You  may  know  her  by  her  beauty, 

Silver  tresses  hanging  low, 
Plump  in  form  and  mincely  stepping, 

This  lady,  Belle  of  Alamo. 

If  you  desire  to  acquaint  this  lady, 
AYatch  the  lasses  where  e'er  you  go; 

The  mind  creates  this  living  beauty, 
Bessie,  the  Belle  of  Alamo. 

SCEXES  IX  SCHOOL. 

As  I  sat  in  the  halls  of  learning, 

I  cast  at  the  pupils  a  glare; 
Some  seemed  eager  for  learning, 

And  others  were  dead  to  despair; 
Some  prying  over  books  to  gain  knowledge, 

And  others  whose  minds  are  flying  around, 
Like  Ihc  wind  on  the  beautiful  prairies, 

Carrying  vibrations  and  emotions  of  sound 

Some  appear  to  be  created  a  genius, 

And  the  world  ovei flows  with  their  care, 
While  clhcrs  are  debauching  their  wisdom, 

And  lay  like  a  beast  in  bis  lair. 
But  for  those  who  study  books  carefully 

Are  treasures  of  shining  bright  gold, 
And  io  those  who  lounge  about  idly 

Have  ignorance  obstructing  the  soul. 


50  INDIANA. 

A  BIRD'S  EYE  VIEW  OF  A  COURT  ELECTION 
SCENE. 

The  great  judge  sat  in  his  easy  chair, 

Deciding  all  laws  points  legally  fair, 

Ruling  out  this  and  allowing  that, 

While  counsel  were  playing  at  tit  for  tat; 

They  addressed  the  court:  "May  your  honor  please," 

And  some  one  arose  and  swayed  the  breeze. 

"I'll  state  the  case,"  the  plaintiff  said, 
Then  from  a  paper  he  both  spoke  and  read, 
And  when  there  came  a  little  lull, 
Defendants  were  up  to  plead  in  full, 
And  talked  at  length  around  about 
As  to  how  they  thought  it  would  turn  out. 

The  temple  of  justice  was  filled  to  the  wall 

With  shrewd  politicians  with  brass  and  gall; 

There  was  Tom  from  the  village,  Jack  from  the  hills, 

And  Doc  from  the  office  of  bottles  and  squills; 

A  more  motley  crowd  was  never  arrayed, 

And  tactics  of  schemers  were  readily  displayed. 

At  every  fence-corner  and  nook  in  the  street 
William  was  intercepted  by  their  wonderful  check 
To  hold  up  the  ghost  of  the  shadow  of  wood, 
Which  seemed  to  the  defendants  to  be  mighty  good; 
There  was  the  whisky-dispenser  and  man  with  a  jag, 
And  ward  politician,  the  fox  for  to  bag. 


A  BIRD'S  EYE  VIEW  OF  A  COURT  ELECTION  SCENE.        51 

There  were  ;  iiie  attorneys  to  keep  i>p  the  I'u'ht, 
And  men  who  believed  in  buying  outright 
A  magnetic  person  that  g:ive  no  alarm, 
A  descendant  of  Adam  and  boss  <;f  a  farm, 
'Twas  said  ''distributing  of  dollars  in  silver  at  will 
To  give  the  old  eagle  a  stamp  on  the  bill." 

By  all  of  this  rubbi-h  it  does  now  prevail 
The  rooster  was  stamped  right  under  the  tail, 
F.xccpt  by  some  persons  that  plaintitT  did  meet 
In  mossy  apparel  and  rags  on  their  feet— 
And  the  poet  came  in  for  a  share  of  abuse 
By  one  who  had  on  the  head  of  a  goose. 

Some  men  were  drowning  and  grabbing  at  straws, 

Asserting  that  this  and  that  were  the  laws, 

And  drinking  of  water  and  striding  afar, 

Which  sounded  like  the  rattle  of  a  trolley  street-car; 

And  this  is  the  way  the  law  mill  rolls 

When  merchandise  is  made  of  human  souls. 

'Tis  this  woeful  shape  our  country  is  in, 
By  talking  of  tariff  and  using  of  tin, 
Bordering  right  closely  to  darkest  Home, 
"When  people  were  driven,  like  a  dog  with  a  bone, 
By  patricians  who  ruled  and  wielded  all  power 
And  caused  the  plebeians  to  yield  and  to  cower. 


52 


SIMILE  OF  GOLD  AXD  SILYEE,  BY  MAID 
AXD  MAX. 

Man:      1  re;gn  supreme  upon  the  earth, 
'T\\as  given  me  by  right  of  birth 
That  I  should  be  the  standard  power, 
And  all  beneath  should  yield  their  dower. 

Maid:     Poor  thing,  what  would  you  be 

If  you  could  not  compare  with  me 

Your  fanciful  exalted  form, 

For  which  you  say  that  you  were  born? 

Man:      I  know  alone  I  stood  at  first, 

Xo  power  to  replenish  sacred  earth; 

Xo  one  to  keep  me  company, 

To  save  my  schemes  from  eternity. 

Maid:     I  thought  you'd  see  that  to  the  strong 
A  helpmate  most  surely  does  belong, 
Partaking  of  the  self-same  right, 
Stamped  by  the  ancient  original  fiat. 

Man:      But  is  there  no  distinction.  n:>ne, 
To  this  the  first-created  one: 
"Who  first  set  foot  upon  this  sward, 
The  image  of  the  eternal  Lord? 

Maid:     Xo,  there's  no  distinction,  not  a  bit, 
So  says  the  sacred  holy  writ; 
The  covenant  says  they  two  are  twain 
From  antiquity  to  end  of  reign. 


SIMILE  OF  GOLD  AND  SILVER,  BY  MAID  AND  MAX.         33 

Man;      There's    no    escape    from    this    combination 

thread 
Upon  which  is  based  the  goddess  of  libel's 

head, 

That  in  the  balance  they  lie  side  by  side, 
To  stay  the  wheels  of  the  flowing  tide. 

Maid:     Whose  issue  is  this  to  be, 

Circulating  from  -ea  to  sea? 

Is  it  not  based  upon  these  two, 

Which  carries 'this  co-ordination  through? 

Man:      I  must  acknowledge  that  in  the  end 
That  each  the  other's  rights  defend; 
And  this  is  surely  the  very  goal 
I 'pon  whose  issue  rests  the  whole. 

Maid:     So  parity  is  an  idle  thought 

As    compared    to    things    which    God    hath 

wrought; 
Xo  more  we'll   hear   of  co-operative  money 

at  par. 
But  the  rattling  wheels  of  the  commercial  car. 

Man:      This  offspring  jointly  we  must  bear, 

f'hased  around  the  world  to  the  teller's  bar; 
It  seems  to  me  to  the  pageant  this  is  fair 
To  adjust  this  wheel  of  fortune  right  with 

care; 

Or  in  other  words,  I  trow,  would  be  the  plan, 
To  adjust  it  equal,  like  maid  and  man. 


54  INDIANA. 

THE  WRECKED  TRAIX. 

WP  boarded  the  train  on  the  Northern  Pacific, 
The  mountain  scenery  was  grand  and  prolific, 
To  make  a  through  trip  to  the  end  of  the  line, 
Although  in  December  the  weather  was  fine; 
The  passengers  were  quite  cheerful  and  laughing 
As  the  wheels  on  the  rails  to  powder  were  charring. 

It  was  a  gala  day  in  old  Vancouver's  Isle, 

All  faces  aglow  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

When  all  are  on  board  a  whistle  to  start, 

And  soon  dearest  friends  are  distant  apart; 

We  passed  through  the  valley  and  saw  the  white  plain. 

Our  engine  did  rally  through  snow  and  through  rain. 

We're  approaching  the  mountain  and  see  the  white 

dome. 

There's  a  beautiful  fountain  runs  down  thro'  the  bone. 
On  nearing  the  summit  there's  a  whistle  for  brakes, 
As  she  starts  like  a  plummet  and  everything  shakes. 
To  pass  over  the  canyon  and  down  the  east  slope. 
The  passengers  are  crying,  0  God,  the  trestle's  broke! 

The  coaches  are  falling  and  swinging  in  air, 
The  passengers  are  wringing  their  hands  in  despair: 
But  the  engine  is  pulling  with  all  of  her  might 
While  the  coaches  are  swinging,  0  heaven,  such  a  sight ! 
The  coupling  is  holding  the  cars  like  a  leech, 
Suspended  in  air  like  a  kite  on  the  beach. 


THE   WRECKED  TRAIN.  65 

T\vo  coaches  are  swinging  in  the  chasm  below, 

And  with  the  sway  of  the  wind  they  move  to  and  fro. 

While  the  train  hands  are  scaffolding  the  people  to 

save 

From  a  horrible  death  which  ends  in  the  grave, 
The  conductor  looked  out  and  loudly  did  call: 
"Oh.  hurry  up.  boys,  I  fear  she  will  fall; 

(Jo  brim:  on  the  timbers  and  lay  them  across," 

And  most  of  the  time  we  worked  at  a  loss; 

Our  eyes  on  the  coaches  that's  swinging  o'er  head, 

Our  veins  are  all  swollen  and  faces  are  red; 

We  heave  up  the  timbers  without  scaffold  or  sweep 

I'ntil  the  rude  structure  the  danger  line  meets. 

When  we  climb  to  the  coaches  with  chisel  and  sledge 

And  heat  on  the  doors  like  beating  a  wedge, 

The  door  is  broken  open,  we  see  them  fall  out 

As  if  they  were  half  dead  and  moping  about; 

T>ut  no  one  is  hurt,  not  even  a  scar 

Is  left  on  their  foreheads  to  show  they  fell  far. 

When  the  cars  are  all  empty  we  sever  their  ties, 
She's  dashed  into  pieces,  in  splinters  she  lies; 
Then  the  train  moved  forward  to  a  place  in  the  road 
To  receive  the  bold  rescuers  and  unfortunate  load. 
There's  a  signal  for  starting,  the  smoke's  rolling  high, 
We're  again  on  our  journey.     Old  trestle,  good-bye! 


~)(j  INDIANA. 

ALAMO. 

When  I  was  young  and  full  of  glee, 

And  apt  +o  wander  around 

Like  many  a  Ijoy  I  wanted'to  see 

A  little  country  town. 

And  to  a  place  I  longed  to  go 

Whose  name  was  christened  Alamo. 

It'was  a  place  to  me  quite  rare, 
On  going  with  my  father  there, 
As  oft  as  I  could  plead  with  him 
To  please  and  let  me  go  again. 
And  thus,  you  see,  I  learned  to  know 
The  road  which  led  to  Alamo. 

And  then  1  became  an  errand  boy, 
Buying  things,  which  was  great  joy, 
Coming  forth  with  home  again, 
Better  than  the  grown-up  men, 
Which  made  my  mind  so  richly  glow 
With  all  the  scenes  in  Alamo. 

So  well  1  remember  the  graded  school, 
Where  often  we  did  break  the  rules, 
And  gave  the  teachers  lots  to  do 
In  dealing  with  their  motley  crew, 
To  make  us  learn  that  we  might  show 
There  were  irreat  men  in  Alamo. 


57 


There  were  three  churches  in  the  place, 
"\Vbere  we  might  grow  in  knowledge  and  grace, 
And  worship  according  to  our  will 
The  God  who  gave  us  all  our  skill; 
And  long  we've  wandered  to  and  fro 
To  behold  the  town  of  Alamo. 

Of  a  Sunday  the  bells  did  chime, 
Tailing  the  children  from  every  clime 
To  come  and  learn  a  blessed  thing 
Of  our  dear  Savior's  suffering, 
That  we  be  ready  when  we  go 
To  leave  in  death  dear  Alamo. 

And  now  we're  grown  to  aged  men, 
Scattered  all  over  glade  and  glen; 
Some  are  lawyers,  great  and  smart, 
Some  are  preachers  to  the  heart, 
Some  are  teachers,  not  a  few, 
Some  are  farmers,  pure  and  true. 

And  so  you  see  how  riches  flow 
Through  the  portal-  of  Alamo. 
And  in  the  cemetery,  east  of  town, 
Many  a  classmate  may  be  found 
Which  has  fallen  by  the  grace  of  Him 
Who  can  pardon  every  sin; 


58  IS'DIAXA. 

I'ut  lie's  called  thvm  when  pure  and  right 

For  to  take  their  upward  flight, 

To  meet  in  heaven  far  above, 

Where  all  is  pure  and  God  is  love. 

And  so  I  hope  that  time  may  show 

We  may  all  meet  again  from  Alamo. 

THE  GERM  OR  NUCLEUS  OF  ALAMO. 

Amidst  forests  and  vines  of  a  golden  hue 

A  mixed  population  co-mingled; 
They  tugged  and  hauled  their  baggage  through, 

And  lived  in  huts  board-shingled. 

A  string  and  a  latch  was  the  bolt  of  the  door, 
Which  was  made  of  oaken  slab  puncheon, 

While  the  earth  or  rude  timbers  served  as  a  floor, 
And  corn  bread  with  dried  venison  made  them  a 
luncheon. 

But  the  woods  disappeared  before  the  strong  arm-, 
As  the  strokes  of  the  axmcn  were  falling, 

And  thus  there  appeared  these  beautiful  farms, 
An  honor  to  those  of  their  calling. 

But  they  needed  a  town  where  they  could  go 
And  buy  of  those  things  mostly  needed, 

So  Samuel  Truax  and  William  Boice  christened  our 

Alamo, 
A  beautiful  place,  now  conceded. 


THE   GERM  OR    NUCLEUS  OF  ALAMO. 


In  I >.oii or  of  "Davy  Crockett  c»ur  lo\vn  was  so  named, 
\\'!io  poured  out  his  life's  blood  when  old  and  quite 
hoary; 

As  a  gallant  swordsman  he'll  always  be  famed: 
Like  all  of  our  heroes,  he  stood  for  Old  Glory. 


GERM  OR  NUCLEUS  OF  ALAMO. 


A  school  house  was  built  of  ehinken  and  logs, 
\Vhere  pedagogues  stalked,  beat  and  pounded; 

Xo  studying  nature  or  peat  of  the  bo^s, 

But  the  old  rule  of  three  must  be  expounded. 


GO  INDIANA. 

Those  days  are  all  o'er  of  fireside  lore, 

And  tales  of  escapes  bold  and  daring; 
Those  primeval  times  will  be  never  more, 

Xor  the  bright  shining  light  of  the  clearing. 

A  new  epoch  has  come  with  learning  and  art. 

With  this  structure  of  wisdom,  fine,  large  and  hand 
some: 

It  is  the  soul's  pride  of  every  pure  heart, 
For  learning  is  free  without  ransom. 

The  old  pedagogue,  with  his  rod  and  his  rule, 
Is  a  thing  of  the  past  forever  and  ever; 

An  up-to-date  Prof,  will  fill  our  new  school, 

Teaching  wisdom  and  languages  stylish  and  clever. 

But  the  quaint  old  bell  in  its  new  lower  exists — 

Its  peals  are  loud  and  sonorous; 
It  breaks  the  sad  heart  of  some  pessimists, 

But  joyful  is  the  youth  now  before  us. 

The  poor  wooden  structure,  with  windows  of  gauze, 

Is  displaced  by  new  ones  of  glass; 
To  enlighten  the  children  has  been  the  whole  cause, 

And  the  door-latch  of  wood  is  now  brass. 

The  entering  steps,  where  oft  children  played, 

Are  now  made  of  long  slabs  of  stone; 
It  isn't  the  place  where  we  loitered  and  stayed 

When  dismissed  from  our  school  to  go  home. 


THE   CRICKET.  61 


And  the  chopping  of  wood  Ivy  the  elderly  boys 

To  keep  out  the  cold,  chilly  air, 
Is  now  done  away  in  comfort  and  joys 

Tn  an  edifice  all  heated  with  care. 

But  great  men  have  arisen  e'en  all  of  this, 
And  have  filled  many  places  of  trust. 

And  more  of  like  calling  will  not  go  ami>s 
If  they  but  brighten  and  polish  the  rust. 

Let  us  cherish  the  good  and  enlighten  the  soul, 
And  build  up  a  place  famed  for  its  grandeur; 

Tli ere  is  no  other  way  of  attaining  the  goal 
In  that  hoped-for  beyond  in  its  splendor. 


THE  CRICKET. 

Under  every  bark  and  litter 
You  can  hear  the  little  critter 
All  the  dark  night  long, 
Singing  his  busy  song — 

K-e-r-t!     K-e-r-t! 

In  the  musty  wheat  shock, 
And  under  every  little  rock, 
The  silence  is  invariably  broken 
By  the  notes  that  are  spoken— 

K-e-r-t !     K-e-r-t ! 


INDIANA. 

hi  the  mouldering  clothes  case 
And  the  old-fashioned  Ihvplaee, 
You  can  hear  his  little  note* 
As  from  his  lips  it  floats — 

K-e-r-t!     K-e-r-t! 

All  among  your  Sun  flay  clothes 
You  will  find  his  dainty  nose, 
Looking  where  to  take  his  toll. 
And  now  and  then  he  makes  a  hole. 

K-e-r-t!     K-e-r-t! 

In  among  the  apples  mellow 
You  will  find  this  noisy  fellow, 
As  he  bites  the  appl"  peel 
For  to  make  his  d-iinty  meal — 

K-e-r-t!     K-e-r-t! 

All  among  the  logs  and  moss 
You  can  hear  the  little  bo>s, 
And  everything  where  e'er  you  pass. 
Even  in  the  dewy  grass — 

K-e-r-t!     K-e-r-t! 

HEKOES  OF  SANTIAGO  I)E  CUBA. 

Sampson's  fleet  stood  out  at  sea, 

Guarding  Santiago  bay. 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  waved  o'er  it  free, 

While  Cervera  hidden  lay. 


HEROES  OF   SANTIAGO   DE   CUBA.  63 

To  catch  the  Spanish  in  a  trap 
Was  planned  by  llobson's  braves; 

The  Merrimac  was  chose  for  that — 
She  plowed  the  billowy  waves. 

With  seven  seamen  she  sped  in  port, 

To  quaint  old  Morro's  walls; 
The  Dons  stood  silent  in  the  fort, 

Aghast  at  the  captain's  calls. 

They  faced  the  :.liot  and  shell  on  shore, 

And  reached  the  place  designed. 
Amidst  the  cannons'  deafening  roar 

And  subterranean  mines. 

The  ensign  o'er  the  collier's  deck 
Said,  "Liberty,  ye  Cuban  braves!" 

'When  purposely  the  ship  was  wrecked, 
And  the  world  looked  on  amazed. 

Oh!  our  heroes,  where  are  they 

That  took  the  hazard  risk? 
We  -ee  them  through  I  be  darkened  spray, 

Hurrah!  hurrah!  to  shore  they  drift. 

The  Spanish  captors  arc  near  to  them, 

A  shout  of  deafening  roar; 
Jli-pani  ne'er  ha>  seen  such  men 

Since  lloratius.  long  before, 


64  INDIANA. 

The  thing  is  done.     Cervera's  fate 
Will  tell  Alphonso's  \voe. 

While  Sampson  holds  the  bottled  fleet, 
Our  Miles  will  charge  the  foe. 

The  end  is  near,  and  Spanish  reign, 
With  blood  and  stench  and  crime, 

Will  be  avenged  for  the  battle  Maine 
Forever  and  all  time. 


INDIANA. 

On  the  plains  of  Indiana, 

Where  the  wild  flowers  gently  wave, 
There  the  farmers  in  their  splendor 

Do  the  golden  cereals  raise. 
There  is  lands  of  various  dimensions, 

From  the  valleys  to  the  hills, 
Many  streams  that  are  rippling, 

Xear  by  which  we  build  our  mills. 

We  have  prairies,  we  have  woodlands, 

Richest  treasures  ever  stored; 
And  far  down  in  the  interior 

Xatural  gas  we  have  in  hoard — 
Quite  enough  to  run  our  factories 

Just  as  long  as  wheels  may  roll, 
And  as  you  are  nearing  Anderson, 

There's  the  richest  of  the  goal. 


SHOE    COBBLER.  65 


Through  the  center  runs  the  AYabash, 

AVith  its  rich  alluvial  soil; 
From  its  source  unto  its  ending 

Many  sturdy  farmers  toil, 
Xot  alone  with  bone  and  sinew, 

But  a  little  more  at  ease, 
Like  unto  our  honored  statesman, 

Whose  giant  speeches  always  please. 

This  is  not  all  that  I  can  tell  you: 

AVe're  the  gateway  to  the  AYest, 
And  must  be  crossed  by  many  tourists 

Hunting  places  where  to  rest 
From  the  cares  and  toils  of  business, 

AA'hich  they've  followed  many  a  year, 
Storing  up  a  little  fortune 

For  old  age  and  later  cares. 

SHOE  COBBLER. 

The  cobbler  sits  on  his  leather  stool, 
And  thongs  the  best  he  can; 

He  blows  his  horn  and  turns  about, 
And  chafes  the  end  of  man. 

He  is  a  perfect  weather-cock, 

And  can  tell  the  wind  and  time; 

He  pounds  away  on  flattening-rock, 
And  spends  his  force  of  mind. 


66  INDIANA. 

He  sits  amidst  old  rancid  shoe- — 

A  splendid  scent  and  savor; 
'Twould  give  an  epicure  the  blues 

To  smell  this  foot-made  flavor. 

"When  his  race  is  rim  and  he  is  done 

A -men  ding  of  old  soles, 
He's  laid  away  for  another  day — 

A  subject  for  the  ghouls. 

THE  SOUL. 

The  soul  is  immortal,  we  cannot  tell  why, 
Unless  it  has  come  from  God  in  the  sky. 
In  death  it  is  separated  from  this  body  of  ours, 
To  go  to  its  keeper  in  a  mansion  of  towers, 
Where  ail  on  a  level  will  soar  without  wing>, 
To  dwell  in  a  city — a  kingdom  of  king?. 
The  wheat  is  separated  away  from  the  chaff, 
While  the  wicked  are  left  to  mock  and  quaff. 

We  images  will  be  in  our  bodily  form, 

Preserving  identity,  although  newly  bom. 

The  power  of  communion  invested  in  we, 

Conversing  with  brothers  we've  longed  to  see. 

We'll  meet  those  old  martyrs,  gone  long  before 

To  dwell  with  their  Savior,  and  open  the  door 

For  the  sheep  of  the  shepherd  who  have  striven  in  vain 

To  reach  those  green  pastures  where  purity  reigns, 


THE   SHADES.  67 


A  description  of  heaven  was  given  to  thee 
By  St.  John  on  the  Patmo-,  an  isle  of  the  sea. 
He  saw  the  rich  treasures  and  emerald  stone, 
The  mantling  robes  around  the  great  throne, 
AVith  Christ  there  ascended  his  people  to  descry, 
Discerning  their  actions,  to  judge  hy  and  by. 

THE  SHADES. 

Oh!  come  to  the  Shades,  ye  wandering  tourists, 

There  beautiful  scenery  your  eyes  to  behold, 
From  its  beautiful  waters,  its  green-growing  shrub'ry, 

To  its  rock-bound  clifts  which  enlighten  the  soul. 
Oh!  come  to  me  now,  while  my  buds  are  all  bursting. 

Their  sweet-smelling  odor  with  the  air  to  diffuse; 
I'll  fill  your  hearts  gladly  with  all  that  grows  wildly— 

The  old  and  the  young  I  readily  amuse. 

Come  to  me,  ye  loved  ones,  whose  minds  are  all  bur 
dened 

AVith  the  cares  of  a  life's  oppressions  and  toils, 
And  I'll  give  you  a  field  of  fun  and  of  pleasure 

To  banish  your  minds  from  remorse  and  from  broils. 
I  am  glowing  with  verdure  from  valley  to  summit, 

Whose  blossoms  of  beauty  are  growing  all  wild, 
Which  calls  back  the  aged  one  from  the  time  of  their 
manhood 

To  their  earlier  days,  when  they  were  a  child. 


68 


INDIANA. 


I'm  a  place  for  those  people  whose  hanks  have  made 
failures, 

And  want  to  get  away  from  the  cares  of  their  home; 
They  can  "bring  out  their  lasses  and  fish  for  the  basses, 

And  promenade  proudly  the  Devil's  Backbone. 


THE    SHADES. 


This  great  massive  structure  is  nature's  own  handwork ; 

Two  high  solid  walls,  sixty  feet  in  mid-air, 
Four  feet  in  its  thickness,  connecting  two  ridges — 

There's  nothing  so  grand  that  we  can  compare. 


JUGGING   BUMBLEBEES. 


The  fowls  of  the  heavens  make  nests  in  the  burrows, 

Which  God  lias  ordained,  the  rocks  being  loose: 
The  pine  and  the  spruce,  looking  down  on  the  billows, 

Has  given  its  name:  the  old  Buzzard  Roost. 
A  lady  once  fell  from  this  high-towering  precipice — 

Her  mind  seemed  to  float  with  the  calm  gentle  breeze ; 
She  toppled  right  over,  as  if  to  destruction, 

And  was  barely  saved  by  the  boughs  of  some  trees. 

Near  the  mouth  of  Little  Ranty  is  picturesque  falls, 

The  most  beautiful  of  all  cascade?; 
An  old-time  stair  leads  up  the  great  walls. 

As  you  pass  through  the  flume  to  the  Shades 
The  waters  are  scattered  in  fan-like  rays, 

As  they  strand  o'er  the  round-like  dome, 
And  dashing  down  in  silver  spray, 

They  rush  on  in  billows  of  foam. 


JUGGING  BUMBLEBEES. 

Little  Clarence  went  io  the  meadow 

To  play  on  the  new-mown  hay, 
Where  a  bumblebee  got  after  him 

And  run  him  clear  away. 
He  told  his  mamma  about  the  bees 

And  all  that  they  had  done, 
Then  hunted  up  a  water  jug 

And  said  lieM  have  some  fun. 


70  INDIANA. 

Tie  filled  it  partly  with  water, 

It  made  a  roaring  sound., 
Then  placed  the  jug  quite  near  the  nest 

When  none  of  them  were  'round. 
He  then  procured  a  little  stick 

And  gave  the  ground  a  thug: 
They  all  came  out  and  flew  around 

And  sailed  right  in  the  jug. 

When  they  were  in  the  water  deep 

And  drowned,  which  seemed  quite  funny, 
He  hunted  up  the  little  nest 

And.  took  their  bread  and  honey. 
Thus  we  see  by  cunning  device 

We  can  such  things  entwine, 
But  yet  it  seems  so  very  nice 

To  treat  them  so  unkind; 
For  we  do  dread  their  mighty  sting, 

It  appears  so  very  sharp, 
And  hurts  much  worse  than  anything — 

It  pierces  to  our  heart. 

Come  all  you  boys  and  learn  of  me, 
And  you  can  have  some  pleasure: 

When  you  have  nothing  else  to  do 
But  spend  your  time  at  leisure, 

And  get  a  jug  with  water  in, 

Which  makes  a  noise  like  singing, 


WORKINGS  OF   BEES.  71 

And  you  can  take  the  bees  right  in 

AVithout  the  fear  of  stinging; 
Then  when  you  see  the  coast  is  clear, 

And  they  have  gone  to  rest, 
You  can  come  up  without  much  fear 

And  procure  their  cozy  nest. 

WORKINGS  OF  BEES. 

Little  bees  are  flying  high — 
When  the  day  is  fair  and  dry 
Humming  are  his  little  wings, 
You  can  hear  him  as  he  sings, 
Carrying  home  his  little  sweets 
In  his  pouch  or  on  his  feet. 

On  rich  blossoms  he  does  glide, 
Turning  quick  from  side  to  side, 
Hunting  for  the  sweetest  cups, 
Out  of  which  he  takes  his  sups, 
Until  he  has  made  his  round, 
Then  you  see  him  homeward  bound. 

In  his  hive  you'll  find  his  cells, 
Which  arc  numerous  honey  wells, 
Flowing  richly  to  the  top 
In  his  luxurious  honey  crop, 
Which  he's  laid  by  with  those  wings 
To  save  his  life  until  the  spring. 


INDIANA. 

As  soon  as  spring  and  it  is  warm, 
You  can  see  them  by  the  swarm 
"Working  hard  for  sixty  days — 
The  life  of  bees  in  working  phase — 
But  younger  ones  are  coming  on 
Long  before  the  old  are  gone. 

In  their  hive  you'll  find  a  cup 
Shaped  just  like  a  hickory  nut; 
In  this  place  the  old  queen  plays, 
And  passing  round  the  eggs  she  lays 
For  the  increasing  of  the  bees 
When  the  old  are  at  their  ease. 


RAISING  THE  FLAG. 

Who  will  raise  the  grand  old  flag 

O'er  a  desolate  Spanish  realm, 
And  life  and  liberty  guarantee 

Where  murder  guides  the  helm? 
Why!  the  Union  boys  in  blue 

Will  sacrifice  the  last  drop  of  blood 
To  the  cause  of  liberty  true — 

Will  expel  a  tyrant  lord. 

Who  will  set  the  reconcentradoes  free 
From  their  shackles  and  iron  bands, 

Where  Columbus  on  his  bended  knee 
Prayed  the  God  of  Christian  lands? 


RAISING  THE  FLAG.  73 

Why!  the  Villon  boys  in  blue. 

With  the  cross  of  Christ  on  high, 
Have  heard  of  pitiful  slaves  pierced  through, 

And  have  rallied  to  the  battle  cry. 

Who  will  liberate  the  poor  and  oppressed, 

As  they  toil  without  food  for  the  crown, 
Penniless,  wan,  emaciated,  distressed, 

Xo  bed  for  repose  but  the  ground? 
Why!  the  Union  boys  in  blue 

Will  go  like  a  hero  to  the  strife, 
And  strain  every  muscle  anew 

For  a  nation  that  struggles  for  life. 

We  come  not  like  a  conquering  foe, 

For  power  and  pelf  and  lands; 
But,  innocent  as  the  mountain  roe, 

With  amity  and  outstretched  hands, 
Go  build  for  yourselves  a  state, 

Let  "Libre"  be  written  to  tell 
How  ye  fought  with  tyrant  strong  and  great — 

How  the  enemy  ye  did  expel. 

"Go  free,  dear  Cuba,"  says  the  flag, 

As  it  waves  o'er  Fl  Caney's  crest. 
"You've  trod  the  Spanish  winepress  in  rags, 

But  your  oppressors  have  done  gone  to  rest." 
"Go  free,"  says  the  gallant  Hough  Kiders, 

As  they  sally  away  from  the  port, 
And  are  driving  the  renegade  Spanish 

Inside  of  old  Morro  Fort. 


74  INDIANA. 

'•fJo  free!  dearest  Isles  of  the  Indies; 

For  centuries  you've  been  trodden  down;, 
Cry  Libre!  Libre!  Libre! 

You're  forever  free  from  a  crown. 
Make  for  yourselves  a  government, 

While  we  guide,  assist  and  protect; 
Place  a  star  in  the  field  of  your  emblem, 

That  you  meditate,  think  and  reflect." 

Old  Liberty  Bell  rung  not  in  vain, 

Our  Declaration  says  just  what  it  means; 
We'll  extend  a  blessing  under  oppression's  reign 

To  the  ancient  Isles  of  the  Philippines. 
Go  teach  the  Gospel  in  foreign  lands, 

Give  them  a  hope,  a  faith  in  Him; 
Extend  God's  grace,  ye  Christian  bands: 

Teach  them  the  power  to  pardon  sin. 

Let  us  succor  the  innocent  mongrel  child — 

A  noble  spirit  may  dwell  within; 
In  their  humble  state  in  the  jungles  wild 

A  nomadic  tale  their  life  has  been. 
Their  masters  coveted  only  spoil — 

Xo  builders  of  the  inward  man, 
But  day  by  day  incessant  toil 

For  Spanish  friars — a  Corsair  clan. 

Think  not  of  trade  or  commercial  power, 
But  hold  the  lives  of  a  people  dear; 

Go  give  to  them  a  better  dower, 
And  of  our  freedom  let  them  hear. 


CHILDISH    GLEE. 


Oppress  them  not;  be  merciful  and  kind; 

Let  them  absorb  our  modern  ways, 
Until  they  see,  or  some  way  find, 

Their  change  of  life  is  better  days. 


CHILDISH  GLEE. 

They  gambol  in  the  sunshine, 
Through  the  woods  and  dells; 

As  it's  nearing  noontime 
They're  resting  at  the  well. 

Gathering  velvet  mosses 
From  the  rocks  and  rills, 

Making  pretty  flosses, 
Scampering  over  hills. 

Strolling  by  the  brooklets, 
Pebbles  shining  bright, 

There  is  joy  in  every  nooklet, 
Gems  like  stars  of  night. 

Murmuring  are  the  waters 

As  they  ripple  down; 
Bark  boats  of  tiny  squatters 

Pass  by  from  fairy  town. 

Birds  are  singing  sweetly 
Among  the  leafy  trees; 

Everything  is  lovely, 

Sweet-scented  is  the  breeze. 


76 


INDIANA, 


They  have  ruddy  little  faces, 

Made  so  by  the  sun : 
Pauming  and  skipping  races — 

.Tollv  childish  fun. 


CHILDISH    GLEE 


There  is  music  in  the  foliage, 
Tunes  of  nature's  art, — 

Enlightening  the  little  sages, 
And  soothing  the  childish  heart. 

Waves  of  sward  like  ocean, 

Nodding  is  the  grain, 
Everything  in  motion, 

Dropping  is  the  rain. 


A    BACK-WOODS   SCHOOL.  77 

*Toad-stools  are  a -ticking 
Like  our  father's  clock; 
Thorns  for  pins  are  sticking 
In  the  baby's  frock. 

Mosses  for  the  carpets, 

On  the  ground-made  floor; 
Many  colored  leaflets 

Strewn  about  the  door. 

Now  mamma  is  calling, 

As  they  pluck  a  rose; 
Hear  them  all  applauding, 

As  the  scene  must  close. 


A  BACK-WOODS  SCHOOL. 

The  old-time  school  lias  had  its  knell, 

And  all  those  noisy  feet  we  used  to  quell, 

Turning  slates  and  leafing  hooks, 

Full  of  mischief  turns  and  crooks. 

You  could  see  their  faces  ilo\v 

With  the  mischief  all  aglow; 

Eyes  on  teacher,  never  fail 

For  to  think  of  water  pail; 

And  when  the  teacher's  back  was  turned 

They  would  forget  quite  all  they'd  learned. 


*  By  Toad-stools  is  meant  Polyporus  versicolor.  It  grows  on  decaying 
trees  like  a  half  moon,  with  a  white  face  und  a  brown  one,  and  looks 
like  the  face  of  a  clock.  Children  use  them  as  clocks. 


78  INDIANA. 

Some  threw  wads. across  the  room, 

And  if  the  teacher  turned  too  soon 

They  studied  lessons  with  a  rush, 

Cheeks  all  reddened  to  a  blush — 

Innocent,  we  knew  full  well, 

For  ne'er  a  one  the  tale  could  tell. 

Then  the  case  it  rested  so, 

For  the  proof  fell  far  below; 

But  the  teacher  assured  them  it  would  not  do 

To  repeat  it,  if  he  got  a  clew, 

Or  he  would  punish  to  the  law 

With  a  gad  that's  green  and  raw. 

ALONE  IN  THE  WOODS. 

As  I  sat  beneath  the  azure  sky, 

The  sun  beamed  warm  and  pleasant; 

There  was  not  a  rustle  or  a  cry, 
But  the  whirring  of  the  pheasant. 

The  shady  dells  were  like  a  dream 
Enchanted  by  the  song-birds; 

A  paradise  it  almost  seemed, 

With  pleasures  passing  by  myriads. 

I  felt  myself  in  Fairy  Land, 

With  scarce  the  power  of  moving — 

As  happy  as  a  seraph  band 
Around  the  throne  hallooing. 


YOUNTSVILLE.  79 


In  these  glens  of  sweetest  music, 

What  is  life  to  you  or  me, 
But  beholding  of  those  pleasures 

One  would  fairly  wish  to  see? 

Pictures  of  the  living  present, 

Fanciful  beyond  all  art, 
Richest  of  all  earthly  treasures, 

Settled  deep  within  our  hearts. 

And  as  the  sun  is  setting,  going, 
Darker  shades  are  drawing  nigh; 

Then  will  come  an  electric  showing, 
Mirrored  on  the  western  sky. 

Streamers  of  a  golden  twilight, 

Fmblem<  of  a  dying  day — 
Scenes  which  follow  brightest  sunshine, 

As  its  rays  are  drawn  away. 


YOUNTSVILLE. 

On  an  eastern  slope,  where  shines  the  sun, 
A  village  long  time  ago  begun; 
V  blacksmith  shop,  a  grinding  and  woolen  mill, 
Were  just  beneath  the  little  hill; 
But  now  a  new  impetus  brings 
A  graded  school  with  drooping  wings, 


80  INDIANA. 

With  Finks  and  Snyders,  O'Xeals,  too, 
'Tis  hard  to  tell  you  how  it  grew; 
But  there  has  heen  no  want  of  skill 
In  the  little  hamlet  of  Yountsville, 
And  every  wave  some  intelligence  brings 
From  the  belfry  tower  with  drooping  wings. 

The  master  builder  was  a  man  of  power, 
He  built  an  edifice  with  gilded  tower, 
Immersed  in  wisdom  deep  at  heart 
That  learning  to  the  soul  embark; 
And  to  the  children  this  building  flings 
Good  tidings  from  those  drooping  wings. 

This  stately  mansion  is  grand,  indeed, 

"Tis  gleaning  chaff  from  among  the  weeds; 

It  quickens  life  unto  the  soul, 

It  is  a  boon  in  deepest  goal 

And  to  its  hall  the  urchin  brings, 

Beneath  the  belfry  with  drooping  wings. 

The  bell  peals  out  from  its  high-up  perch, 
Excelling  that  of  the  village  church, 
Calling  the  children  to  fall  in  line 
And  learn  a  lesson  of  the  Sacred  Shrine. 
This.  I  tell  you.  is  just  the  thing 
Which  issues  from  those  drooping  wings. 


A   DESCRIPTION   OF   HISTORY.  81 

The  Old  Oaken  Bucket  is  far  surpassed — 

We've  piped  the  earth  for  deeper  gas; 

This  is  a  child  of  recent  skill; 

Xo  water  wheel,  no  water  mill, 

But  steam  that's  gushing  from  iron  rings, 

Is  just  beneath  those  drooping  wings. 

Xow.  <>!'  these  things  J  speak  in  praise — 

I  do  approve  of  modern  ways. 

Train  up  your  sons  like  stately  men, 

To  he  an  honor  to  all  their  ken; 

And  of  your  town  don't  fail  to  sing, 

And  the  grandeur  of  those  drooping  wings. 

A  DESCRIPTION  OF  HISTORY. 

In  the  life  of  a  nation,  accounts  must  he  kept, 

To  enlighten  a  people  coming  after; 
If  it  wasn't  for  this  events  would  have  slept, 

And  weakened  our  store  of  good  treasure. 

But,  luckily,  man  like  a  genius  has  heen, 

In  recording  those  things  which  were  passing, 

1'ntil  we  have  pages  from  stylus  and  pen, 
With  the  many  events  that's  amassing. 

On  this  mer  of  time  we  have  handed  down 

All  that  is  grand  of  a  nation; 
We  can  now  hehold  from  clay  tahlets  of  old 

All  Christendom  clear  down  to  creation. 


82  IXDIANA. 

Our  mind  is  like  a  vessel  laden  with  fruit 

That  grew  over  a  far  distant  ocean, 
But  it  is  ripening-  now  with  each  turn  of  the  plow, 

Which  quicken  our  pages  in  motion. 

In  a  picture  of  thought  we  see  many  things 

Which  the  chroniclers  have  penned  for  their  glory; 

And.  we  children  of  skill  can  read  with  a  will 
The  deeds  of  a  people  grown  hoary. 

There's  profit  by  those  who  have  gone  on  before, 
And  have  mirrored  their  thoughts  by  the  pages; 

It  is  better  than  gold  or  gems  that  are  old, 
Which  must  shine  out  and  glitter  for  ages. 

THE  OLD  SAWMILL. 

Toot!  toot!  toot!     The  time  has  come 
AVhen  sawmill  labor  has  begun. 
Eoll  on  the  log  and  dog  it  down. 
And  turn  the  adjusting  lever  'round; 
Turn  on  the  steam  and  let  her  go: 
The  dust  is  flying  like  the  snow! 

Reverse  the  lever,  it  will  stop, 
And  on  a  car  the  plank  will  drop. 
There  is  a  man  that's  standing  there 
To  seize  the  planks  and  off-bear; 
They  take  them  to  the  edging  saw. 
And  then  you'll  hear  a  buzzing  yaw. 


ALCOHOL. 


The  fireman  gathers  up  the  scrap?, 

And  in  the  fiery  furnace  slaps, 

The  blaze  goes  curling  through  the  line; 

The  saw  is  like  a  brilliant  blue, 

And  when  the  mill  is  running  right 

The  saw  is  clearly  out  of  sight! 

J>iisy  hands  are  at  the  mill, 
For  every  man  has  a  place  to  fill; 
And  if  you  stand  and  gaze  around, 
A  loosened  bark  will  hit  your  crown, 
And  on  your  nose  or  forehead  lodge — 
And  when  too  late  you're  sure  to  dodge. 

ALCOHOL. 

Alcohol  is  like  a  snake: 

It  can't  be  kept  in  bounds; 
It  makes  of  one  a  perfect  wreck, 

A  wandering  vagrant  hound. 

It  steals  away  an  active  brain, 

And  fills  one  with  remorse, 
And  causes  people  to  go  insane, 

Their  soul  is  all  morose. 

In  dread  of  those,  we  stand  in  awe, 

Who  tipple  at  the  wine; 
They  all  disgrace  the  moral  laws — 

Their  manners  are  unkind. 


84  INDIANA. 

All  sons  and  daughters  should  abhor 

The  actions  of  such  loots — 
For  this  is  what  they  make  themselves 

When  whisky's  up  their  snoots. 

Of  all  the  curses  on  the  earth, 

This  certainly  is  the  worst; 
It  brings  to  Badness  and  to  gloom 

Our  pleasures  and  our  mirth. 

And  he  who  drinks  the  fiery  cup 

Will  come  to  saddest  woe-, 
For,  as  he  lakes  each  dainty  sup, 

'Twill  blossom  on  his  nose. 

OVER  THE  HILLS  TO  THE  SCHOOL  HOUSE. 

Over  the  hills  to  the  school  house 

The  teacher  is  plodding  his  way, 
To  instruct  those  frolicsome  urchins 

Who,  like  snowbirds,  are  busy  at  play. 

His  duties  are  many  and  kindred 

To  those  of  a  parent  at  home — 
So  loving,  so  gentle  and  child-like 

He  must  treat  each  pupil  that  comes. 

Their  faces  are  shining  with  gladness 

To  see  the  first  sprinkle  of  snow; 
Then  off  with  their  Avraps  and  sleigh-bobs 

To  coast  down  the  hill  thev  will  £0. 


OVER   THE   HILLS   TO  THE    SCHOOL   HOUSE.  85 

When  the  sun  is  melting  the  snow-drifts, 
They'll  be  rolling  it  up  with  their  hands, 

And  shaping  it  into  a  rock  cliff, 
Or  making  it  into  a  man. 

Then  they'll  choose  sides  for  a  battle, 

The  enemy  a  large  heap  of  snow; 
They  distance  themselves  from  the  target — 

One,  two,  make  ready  to  throw! 

The  mummy  is  shattered  asunder, 
Sharp-shooters  are  tiying  their  guns; 

Xow  the  teacher  is  pulling  the  bell-rope, 
And  away  goes  sweetcake  and  buns. 

They  settle  themselves  in  their  places, 

And  commence  humming  like  numerous  bees, 

Perusing  their  books  to  learn  wisdom, 
All  leafing  and  turning  the  leaves. 

Class  number  one  has  its  lesson. 

And  the  master  calls  it  on  time; 
At  a  tap  of  the  boll  they  are  standing, 

And  two  taps,  they  are  falling  in  line. 

"Xow,  Johnnie,  you  answer  the  question 

That  1  have  propounded  to  you;" 
A  similar  routine  in  connection,, 

And  the  day's  recitations  are  through. 


SG  INDIANA. 


Then  they  return  to  their  threshold, 

Their  prayers  are  quietly  said, 
And  now  they  are  donning  their  night  clothes, 

And  mamma  will  put  them  to  bed. 


CRAWFORDSVILLE,  ALIAS  ATHEXE. 

The  city  of  Crawford  is  a  beautiful  town, 
Where  knowledge  and  learning  doth  abound, 

In  the  great  theatrical  arena; 
It  is  a  place  that  has  much  fame, 
And  transient  people  are  gently  tame 

When  in  the  city  of  Athene. 

Our  modern  people  have  pluck  and  skill, 
They  push  right  onward  up  the  hill, 

"Where  natural  science  is  gleamy; 
And  yet  they  associate  the  whole 
And  give  to  physics  a  perfect  soul, 

These  wily  students  of  Athene. 

Commerce  is  pressing  in  every  nook, 
The  old  landmarks  they  have  forsook, 

And  all  that's  dark  and  dreamy; 
Xothing  assumes  a  haggard  look, 
And  life  is  like  a  sparkling  brook 

In  this  bustling  citv  of  Athene. 


THE  feED   BIRD.  8? 


We  are  marching  onward  with  the  tide, 
Around  the  world  we  swiftly  glide, 

The  future  looks  hright  and  beamy; 
The  laggard  is  dropping  out  behind, 
Although  their  friends  are  true  and  kind 

In  the  ever-aspiring  Athene. 

We  cannot  stay  this  business  roll, 
While  pressing  onward  to  reach  the  goal 

In  this  philosophical  arena; 
We  are  pushing  on  toward  the  skies 
To  meet  the  patriarchs,  so  wise — 

Our  people  of  great  Athene. 

The  annals  of  time  will  tell  our  fate, 
And  of  our  people  growing  great 

In  our  city  with  such  vehemy;* 
Our  fame  is  laureled  in  ev'ry  clime, 
And  history  impressed  on  the  wings  of  time, 

Of  our  people  of  great  Athene. 


THE  RED  BIED. 

The  red  bird  sat  upon  a  tree, 
And  sang  to  me,  and  sang  to  me. 
The  sweetness  of  his  voice  did  float 
From  the  airv  waves  of  his  little  throat. 


-This  word  is  coined  from  vehemence. 


INDIANA. 


The  time  that  he  sang  pierced  to  my  heart, 

Exciting  a  love  that  ne'er  will  part 

For  the  little  singer  so  full  of  glee 

And  the  melodious  notes  from  the  old  elm  tree. 


THE   RED  BIRD. 


But  still  it  seemed  that  he  would  not  tire, 
As  he  mounted  up  still  higher  and  higher, 
And  warbled  a  lay  I  ne'er  have  heard 
From  the  sweetest  voice  of  a  singing  bird. 


SOLDIERS'  MONUMENT.  89 

Tho  morning  came,  and  soon  was  spent; 

The  sun  to  the  topmost  sky  had  sent 

His  brilliant  rays  to  light  the  earth 

And  the  beautiful  morning  which  it  gave  birth. 

His  glee  extended  to  the  hour  of  eight, 
When  the  time  of  feeding  was  getting  late, 
And  the  young  ones  croaked  for  a  dainty  meal, 
A  worm  or  a  bug  from  the  new-plowed  field. 

Then  the  mock-bird  thought  he'd  imitate, 
But  fell  far  short  in  his  self-conceit. 
His  dress  apparel  weren't  near  so  red, 
And  the  whitting  song  was  stale  and  dead. 

But  yet,  as  eager  as  pride  could  be, 
He  sang  away  with  his  rhythm,  to-ree! 
T'ntil  the  flowers  with  shame  did  blush, 
Which  caused  his  mimicry  soon  to  hush. 

But  on  went  the  warbler  with  lay  so  sweet, 
That  it  savored  the  morsels  the  little  ones  eat, 
And  taught  them  a  lesson  which  all  should  know: 
That  the  way  to  be  happy  is  to  try  to  be  so. 

SOLDIERS'  MONUMENT. 

Our  soldiers  fought  and  bled  and  died 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  to  maintain; 

A  monument  will  be  their  pride 
To  speak  aloud  their  fame. 


90  INDIANA. 

They  loft  their  wive?  and  families  dear 

To  face  the  maddened  J'oe; 
Some  ne'er  came  hack  is  very  clear — 

Their  hodies  lie  cold  below. 

But  in  our  minds,  so  calm  and  bright, 
This  pedestal  stands  aloft; 

Tt  sheds  a  lustre  of  passing  light— 
Their  memories  can't  be  lost. 

And  to  those  children  which  are  bereaved, 

This  statue  does  proclaim, 
In  honor  of  our  country 

Their  fathers  have  been  slain. 

That  we  acknowledge  their  sacrifice, 

And  must  the  deed  repay, 
This  is  an  emblem  of  our  love, 

In  honor  of  the  fray. 

They  chased  the  enemy  on  battlefields, 
Like  chieftains  would  a  knave, 

And  to  the  people  did  reveal 
The  grand  old  flag  must  wave. 

Their  families  dear  are  in  our  hearts, 
We  all  must  care  for  them; 

The  government  has  set  apart 
Emoluments  for  the  men. 


OFFICE- SEEKING.  91 


But  those  who  died  in  the  battle's  rage, 

Xo  tithes  can  they  receive 
But  by  an  ensign  for  every  age. 

Which  speaks  in  lasting  praise. 

And  on  its  sides  we  must  inscribe 
The  grandest  names  of  yore, 

So  passing  people  may  imbibe 
Their  deeds  forever  more. 

OFFICE-SEEKING. 

The  rush  for  office  is  quite  free, 
And  candidates  are  plenty; 

It's  just  because  there's  no  money — 
Their  pocket-books  are  empty. 

Uncle  Sam  lias  lured  us  so, 

In  taking  by  taxation, 
From  off  the  farm  we're  forced  to  go, 

We  cannot  make  connection. 

A  mortgage  on  a  horse  or  cow 

Isn't  worth  the  holding; 
How  can  a  man  support  a  frow 

Unless  by  office-holding? 

Our  wheat  is  worth  but  sixty  cents, 
And  beef  not  worth  a  penny; 

This  is  the  reason,  in  common  sense, 
That  candidates  are  many. 


INDIANA. 

CHILDHOOD  IX  THE  ORCHARD. 

Grand  was  the  scene  before  us, 

With  Junes  and  Rhode  Island  green, 

Where  fathers  used  to  scold  us 
For  knocking  the  Summer  Queens. 

That  striped  fruit  we  cherished 

And  gathered  with  a  will, 
Our  little  bodies  nourished, 

From  fruits  off  of  the  hill. 

Here  passed  the  best  of  childhood, 

Climbing  in  the  trees; 
'Twas  equal  to  the  wild-wood, 

With  flowers  and  scented  breeze. 

We  long  to  be  a  child  again, 

And  live  a  hermit  life, 
Away  from  all  the  cares  of  men, 

Where  youthful  pleasure's  rife. 

Where  childhood  is  a  springtime, 

Ripening  in  the  sun. 
Like  the  flowers  of  ages, 

And  life  is  full  of  fun. 

Those  precious  golden  moments, 
Spent  in  loving  childish  mirth, 

Is  the  sweetest  of  a  lifetime, 

Gathering  fruits  from  flowers  of  earth. 


THE   HERO  OF   MANILA. 


Fruits  we  cannot  carry  with  us, 
To  a.  land  of  sweet  repose; 

But  by  our  fruits  the  people  know  us, 
As  they  know  the  sweetest  rose. 


THE  HERO  OF  MANILA. 

Of  all  the  men  that  sail  o'er  the  seas, 

And  are  standing  for  Old  Glory, 
There's  none  so  brave  and  at  their  case 

As  George  Dewey,  old  and  hoary, 
lie  has  plowed  the  billows  and  the  waves, 

Which  ran  'most  mountain  high; 
His  name  is  laureled  with  the  braves, 

His  fame — 'twill  never  die. 
Hoist  all  the  flags  and  fire  the  guns, 

Our  hero  is  not  alone; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  your  echoes  tell 

George  Dewey  is  coining  borne! 

A  message  flashed  across  the  sea: 

"Protect  your  native  land!" 
He  received  it  with  such  cheer  and  glee, 

And  sailed  for  Manila,  strand. 
The  Spanish  guns  along  the  way 

Belched  forth  a  deafening  roar; 
The  admiral's  words  were  calm  that  day, 

As  down  on  the  enemy  he  bore. 


INDIANA. 

Hoist  all  the  flags  and  fire  the  guns, 

Our  hero  is  not  alone: 
King  out,  wild  bells,  your  echoes  tell 

George  Dewey  is  coming  home! 

ITe  passed  the  entrance  of  the  hay, 

O'er  magazines  and  mines; 
Our  seamen  won  in  every  fray, 

And  heat  them  every  time. 
Brave  Dewey  signalled  from  the  deck 

To  fire  on  the  Spanish  knaves, 
And  soon  we  saw  their  ships  a-wreck, 

And  floating  on  the  waves. 
Hoist  all  the  flags  and  fire  the  guns, 

Our  hero  is  not  alone; 
King  out,  wild  hells,  your  echoes  tell 

George  Dewey  is  coming  home! 

The  work  is  done,  the  flag  is  raised 

Amidst  the  battle's  cry; 
The  boys  in  blue  must  all  be  praised — 

They  mean  to  do  or  die. 
Manila  is  ours  by  right  of  war, 

We'll  treat  the  people  kind; 
This  sheer  oppression  we  abhor — 

Xo  truer  friend  they'll  find. 
Hoist  all  the  flags  and  fire  the  guns, 

Our  hero  is  not  alone; 
King  out,  wild  bells,  your  echoes  tell 

George  Dewev  is  coming  home! 


THE   SAVIOR. 


The  victor  starts  out  to  retrace 

His  course  across  the  sea: 
A  perfect  type  of  the  American  race — 

A  friend  to  you  and  me. 
He  meets  the  kings  along  the  route, 

And  feasts  with  noble  queens; 
We  hear  the  guns  and  people  shout, 

And  martial  music  teems. 
Hoist  all  the  flags  and  fire  the  guns, 

Our  hero  is  not  alone; 
Ring  out,  wild  "bells,  your  echoes  tell 

George  Dewey  has  come  home! 

THE  SAVIOE. 

It  was  in  good  old  Bethlehem, 
AY  here  the  fairest  baby  lay, 

In  the  rudest  of  a  manger, 
On  swaddling  cloths  and  hay. 

'Twas  on  a  lonely  evening 

That  the  people's  fate  was  sealed 

AYith  TI  promise  of  redemption, 
And  eternal  life  revealed. 

A  star  shone  in  the  heavens 
Above  where  the  Savior  lay: 

A  light  to  those  in  darkness 
To  guide  them  on  their  way. 


96  INDIANA. 

And  lo!  the  shepherds  saw  it 
While  attending  to  their  sheep, 

And,  rushing  onward  to  it, 
They  found  the  child  asleep. 

The  time  was  so  exciting, 

And  the  kings  were  all  beguiled, 

As  they  sought  witli  such  impatience 
The  life  of  the  infant  child. 

But  day  by  day  he  was  growing 
In  knowledge  and  in  grace: 

Ordained  the  soul-redeemer 
Of  all  the  human  race. 

When  he  reached  his  manhood, 
He  perfected  His  plan, 

By  dying  on  the  cross-tree 
At  the  wicked  hands  of  man. 

His  soul  ascended  upward, 
And  his  body  to  the  tomb; 

The  day  was  clothed  in  darkness 
And  the  earth  was  all  in  gloom 

He  now  is  with  the  Father, 
And  is  sitting  on  the  throne, 

Awaiting  of  the  judgment 
To  call  His  people  home. 


THE    EDITORS.  97 


THE  EDITOES. 

The  editors  are  a  jolly  lot, 

And  yet  they  feel  quite  mellow; 

They  fill  their  sheets  with  much  that's  not 
So  pleasant  to  the  other  fellow. 

They  talk  at  length,  and  to  the  point, 

And  always  get  so  giddy 
You'd  think  their  pen  was  out  of  joint, 

Like  the  tongue  of  an  Irish  biddy. 

And  yet  they  feel  as  safe  as  mice 

Hid  in  some  dusky  barracks, 
Awaiting  for  to  break  the  ice 

From  some  lucid  son  of  Garrick's. 

Sometimes  they  meet  upon  the  street 

Some  lady  filled  with  pride: 
We  then  do  hear  some  shuffling  feet 

And  twirling  of  rawhide. 

Away  they  go  up  Lundy's  lane, 

The  editor  much  in  the  lead: 
The  damsel  followed  by  her  train, 

Attached  to  her  raging  steed. 

Xext  issue  then  will  be  explained, 

And  both  be  satisfied; 
The  censure  shows  they  both  are  blamed, 

And  both  have  lost  some  pride. 


98  INDIANA. 

And  thus  they  go  from  year  to  year, 

Exposing  by  the  legions, 
And  reaching  out,  both  far  and  near, 

Through  all  the  world  and  regions. 

ELECTION  DAY. 

Election  day  is  coming,  with  all  that  pomp  can  wield; 
Electors  are  protected  by  an  artificial  shield. 
Boodlers  have  defrauded  this  sacred  trust  of  men, 
Until  we  have  devised  a  plan  with  stall  and  chute  for 

them; 

A  die  that  stamps  the  chosen  one,  a  juror  in  the  box, 
They  there  receive  no  emoluments,  and  cheat  the  sly 

old  fox, 

By  passing  in  behind  the  screen,  away  from  longing  eyes. 
And  fixing  out  their  ballots,  concealed  from  those  that 

buys. 

This  ballot  must  be  counted  according  to  the  mark 
That's  placed  thereon,  without  restraint,  the  symbol 

of  their  heart. 
Then  hand  the  stamp  to  the  polling  clerk,  the  ticket 

to  inspector, 
do  on  your  way  rejoicing  then,  your  conscience  clear 

as  nectar. 
Schemes  and  fraud  are  dormant  now,  the  people  have 

ascended; 
Xo  more  they'll  milk  the  fatted  cow,  our  rights  are 

strongly  blended. 


LITTLE   DOG    FRED.  99 


The  milk  will  flow  the  other  way,  there's  crystals  in 

the  butter; 
We  are  so  glad  we're  free  again,  our  hearts  doth  fairly 

flutter. 
The  ship  of  state  will  still  sail  on,  the  sea  is  calm  and 

easy; 
The  schemers'  cry  is  passing  by,  their  mantle's  dark 

and  greasy. 

LITTLE  DOG  FRED. 

I  have  a  little  dog  -whose  name  is  Fred, 

lie  runs  with  me  lo  play; 
lie  has  four  eyes  within  his  head — 

Two  bright,  two  dim  were  they. 

He  has  four  feet  that's  colored  tan, 

And  he  frolics  on  the  hay; 
You'd  think  lie  was  a  little  man — 

He  walked  upright  to-day. 

]'ll  hold  some  food  above  his  head, 

Poor  fellow,  he  will  speak; 
Ho  always  does  so  when  he's  fed, 

AYhcn  things  arc  out  his  reach. 

He  chases  the  rabbits  in  the  woods, 

And  the  squirrels  up  the  trees; 
lie  watches  the  chickens  with  their  broody 

And  snaps  the  bumblebees. 


100 


INDIANA. 


He  has  a  coat  as  black  as  jet, 
And  teeth  as  white  as  snow; 

He  is  the  very  nicest  pet 
That  one  can  ever  know. 


LITTLE    DCG   FRED. 


He  carries  sticks  along  the  road, 
And  trots  along  to  school; 

The  teacher  never  needs  a  goad, 
For  he  doesn't  break  the  rules. 


A   SXOWFLAKE.  101 


lie  scours  the  pasture?  for  the  cows, 
And  does  not  fear  to  roam; 

He  never  stop-  his  how-wow-wows 
Until  he  brings  them  home. 


A  SNOWFLAKE. 

"Whenever  a  snowflake  leaves  the  sky, 
It  turns  and  turns  around  to  sigh: 
"Hood-bye,  dear  mother  in  vaulted  Line, 
Some  day  again  I'll  come  to  you — 
Xot  in  crystals  frozen  white, 
But  in  liquid  prisms  bright; 
Amidst  fervent  heat  I'll  take  new  wings, 
While  gushing  forth  from  babblings  springs. 

"My  home  is  where  the  polar  bear 
Hunts  for  the  seal  and  ice's  glare, 
And  where  the  chubby  Esquimau 
AVith  dog  and  sled  glides  o'er  the  snow. 
By  arc-tie  winds  I'm  driven  down 
To  shroud  the  earth  in  winter's  gown; 
I  prowl  around  the  cottage  door, 
And  seek  the  chinks  and  Brusseled  floor. 

"And  where  the  baby's  snug -and  warm, 
I  steal  around  his  little  form; 
And  yet  T  have  a  work  to  do 
To  save  the  flowering  bulbs  for  von. 


102  INDIANA. 

I  clothe  the  earth,  and  keep  it  warm, 
And  save  these  germs  of  earth  from  harm; 
And  when  the  sunny  spring  has  come, 
I  to  the  widening  rivers  run. 

"When  in  this  humid  tropic  clime 
I  start  again  on  the  wings  of  time, 
Ascending  in  the  balmy  air, 
Until  I  reach  a  current  where 
The  Northern  trades  are  passing  nigh, 
And  then  again  I  say  good-bye, 
Good-bye,  dear  flowers  of  the  torrid  zone, 
I'll  go  again  to  my  native  home." 

A  HOBXET'S  XEST. 

The  sentry  stood  out  at  the  door, 
And  winked  and  bustled  around; 

He  sallied  in  and  told  a  score 
That  an  enemy  he  had  found. 

I  threw  a  stick  at  the  hornet's  nest, 
And  one  came  buzzing  by; 

I  started  to  run  my  very  best, 
But  he  caught  me  on  the  eye. 

I  threw  myself  down  on  the  ground, 
And  rolled  and  writhed  in  pain; 

But  no  relief  down  there  I  found, 
For  they  darted  and  came  again. 


THE    CUNNING,   COVETOUS  JEW.  103 

So  up  I  got,  and  away  I  went, 

Surrounded  by  a  swarm; 
And  in  that  race  I  did  repent 

I  gave  such  wild  alarms. 

I  slapped  my  hands  and  scratched  aljout, 

And  did  many  things  in  vain; 
I  pulled  the  deserted  stingers  out, 

And  felt  the  smarting  pain. 

I  ne'er  had  been  in  such  distress, 

r>ut  always  will  refrain 
From  clubbing  of  a  hornet's  nest, 

Since  I  have  felt  such  pain. 

Xow,  all  you  boys  who  think  it's  fun 

To  throw  your  shafts  and  darts, 
Had  better  prepare  some  place  to  run 

Before  vou  make  such  starts. 


THE  CUXXIXG,  COVETOUS  JEW. 

"Come  in,  my  friend,  and  see  my  stock, 

My  goods  are  nice  and  new; 
I've  everything,  from  hat  to  frock," 

Said  the  cunning,  covetous  Jew. 
They're  always  hanging  out  in  front 

To  catch  and  lure  you  in; 
Xo  matter  if  your  speech  is  blunt, 

They  want  the  shining  tin. 


104  INDIANA. 

"Try  on  this  coat,  it  is  all  wooi, 
And  woven  nice  and  new." 
And  on  the  shoulder  it  is  too  full, 

But  you  know  a  cunning  Jew. 
"How  do  you  like  this  suit  of  black, 

It's  imported  goods  clear  through?" 
And,  grasping  a  handful  in  the  back, 
Cried  out:  "It's  shust  a  fit  for  you!" 

"You  see  it's  lined  with  satin  cloth, 

And  sewed  with  silken  thread," 
And  to  tell  the  truth  'twas  eaten  by  moth, 

But,  "  Tis  excellent!"  he  said. 
"Xow  try  this  vest  of  latest  style, 
It's  bound  all  round  before," 
And  on  the  tag  I  see  the  while 
'Twas  made  in  eighty-four. 

"Eight  dollars  is  the  price  of  it, 

And  that  is  very  cheap. 
I  cannot  fall  a  single  bit." 

lie  at  the  cost  mark  peeped. 
He  feigns  he's  selling  out  at  cost, 

And  cannot  fall,  be-joses, 
Without  incurring  heavy  loss, 

He'd  swear  by  holy  Moses. 

But,  by  the  by,  we  pretend  to  go, 

And  offer  but  dollars  six. 
"I  cannot  take  that  price!"  said  Steve, 
But  we've  heard  of  Jewish  tricks. 


THE   CUNNING,   COVETOUS  JLW. 


We  move  along,  as  if  to  go, 

O  -  O       7 

And  watch  that  cunning  Jew; 
Tie  could  not  take,  he  pretended  so, 
But  he'll  wrap  it  up  for  you. 

'Xow  can  I  sell  yon  a  hat  or  tie?" 

He'll  show  you  through  the  stock; 
You  cannot  go  unless  you  buy, 

At  prices  at  bed-rock. 
He's  always  selling  out  at  cost, 

And  tells  a  woeful  tale; 
Tic's  had  a  fire,  a  damage  loss, 

The  reason  for  the  sale. 

'Xow  call  again/'  he'll  say  to  you, 

One  hand  upon  your  shoulder — 
An  instinct  of  an  artful  Jew, 

To  cheat  and  be  the  bolder. 
He  casts  a  wink  at  an  elder  son 

To  signify  he's  done  you. 
And  that's  the  way  the  thing  is  done 

By  the  cunning,  covetous  Hebrew. 

And  thus  he  goes  from  year  to  year, 

A-selling  out  so  cheap; 
And  yet  he  has  a  conscience  clear, 

And  money  by  the  heap, 
Though  all  was  made  by  selling  out 

Away  below  the  cost. 
And  that's  the  way  this  Jew  came  out 

Who  sold  and  always  lost. 


INDIANA. 


THE  RAGGEDY  GAL. 

The  raggedy  gal  is  nurse  for  ma, 

And  chores  about  the  house; 
She  makes  the  children  cake  and  slaw, 

And  good  old  apple  sauce. 
Her  flaky  pudding  is  so  fine 

And  colored  nice  and  brown, 
And  served  with  milk  from  fattest  kine, 

And  sugar  from  the  town. 

Oil!  the  raggedy  gal,  the  raggedy  gal, 
Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 

She  gave  us  peaches  from  the  trees, 

And  peanuts  from  the  ground, 
Some  pretty  shells  from  out  the  sea, 

And  played  like  she  was  clown. 
Then  up  and  down  the  road  we  went, 

A-drawing  of  a  cart, 
And  from  the  dusty  path  we  sent 

The  grasshopper  quick  and  sharp. 
Oh !  the  raggedy  gal,  the  raggedy  gal, 
Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 

The  raggedy  gal  will  care  for  baby, 
Playing  in  the  pleasant  shade, 

Just  as  happy  as  a  May  bee 
Out  in  gaudy  dress  parade. 


THE    KAGGEDY   GIRL. 


Little  =ongs  she's  always  humming, 

All  must  bow  and  nod  'and  sing; 
Little  feet  are  nimbly  shuffling 
To  the  trumpet's  twangling  ring. 
Oh!  the  raggedy  gal,  the  raggedy  gal, 
Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 

We  love  the  chubby  ragged  lady 

For  the  sweet  meats  and  the  buns; 
Xo  matter  if  her  dress  is  fady, 

She  has  friends,  and  loving  ones. 
Children  play  about  her  jolly, 

And  press  her  gently  at  the  knees; 
They  enjoy  such  pranks  and  folly  — 

Pleasure?  for  their  childish  ease. 

Oh!  the  raggedy  gal,  the  raggedy  gal, 
Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 

She  is  queen  out  making  sunshine, 

Gathering  moss  from  off  the  logs, 
Swinging  in  the  corded  grape  vines, 

And  seeking  the  curious  of  the  bogs 
She  is  captain  of  the  party 

As  the  marauders  scour  the  woods; 
They  are  laughing  loud  and  hearty, 

Gathering  berries  ripe  and  good. 

Oh!  the  rnggedy  gal,  the  raggedy  gal, 
Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 


108  INDIANA. 

Oh!  the  sweetest  thing  is  the  ragged}'  gal. 

Singing  songs  of  fal-de-ral. 

She  has  access  to  the  cellar, 

Giving  out  the  apples  mellow; 

She  has  all  the  pantry  care — 

Pies  and  cakes  so  rich  and  rare; 

She  must  give  the  urchins  some. 

Bless  the  children!  this  is  fun. 

Ohf  the  good  old  raggedy,  raggedy  gal, 

Encircled  with  a  balmoral! 


THE  WELLS  TRAGEDY. 

THE   FOUR   INNOCENTS. 

As  four  small  boys  were  at  work  one  day 
Picking  strawberries  so  beautiful  and  red, 

Their  hearts  were  very  blithe  and  gay, 
And  the  sun  shone  bright  o'erhead. 

Work  to  them  was  naught  but  play, 

They  did  it  with  a  will; 
Adroitly  they  worked  away 

Their  vessels  for  to  fill. 

The  father  came  the  work  to  inspect, 

But  ne'er  tried  to  assist; 
His  mind  was  crazed  and  did  reflect 

In  the  ways  of  a  pessimist. 


THE   WELLS   TRAGEDY.  109 

Their  childish  glee  told  the  work  was  done, 

As  the  playful  little  hoys 
Were  starting  homeward  so  full  of  fun, 

With  such  cheerful,  childish  joys. 

The  father  lured  them  on  the  way 

By  scenes  at  a  wayside  well, 
Where  a  woodchuck  hurrowed  in  the  clay, 

Which  served  as  their  parting  knell. 

While  looking  in  the  quaint  old  well, 

The  father  pushed  them  in. 
Oh!  such  a  sight!     Oh!  who  can  tell 

Of  such  a  crime  and  sin! 

They  dropped  beneath  the  turbid  wave, 

They  climbed  the  rugged  wall, 
And  looking  at  their  father,  crazed, 

They  pitifully  did  call. 

"Oh!  father,  save!     What  have  we  done 

That  you  desire  to  kill? 
Our  task  we've  never  tried  to  shun; 
Oh!  spare  us,  please  grant  our  will!" 

But  on  he  went  with  furious  rage, 

And  crushed  one's  little  head: 
The  father  had  them  in  a  cage — 

Their  wounds  profusely  bled. 


110 


They  caught  the  parent  by  the  leg 

And  writhed  as  lie  pushed  them  imdrr. 

And  for  their  lives  they  hogged  and  plead — 
Their  bodies  he  rent  asunder. 

The  mother  saw  from  a  distant  place 
Something  she  could  not  descry. 

And.  speeding  onward  with  quickened  pace. 
She  heard  the  children  cry. 

0  God!  the  sight  that  met  her  eyes, 
As  she  peered  down  in  the  deep. 

She  heard  such  pitiful,  pleading  cries, 
But  two  had  gone  to  sleep. 

She  wrung  her  hands  and  cried  aloud. 
And  prayed  (iocl  her  children  to  save; 

Behold!  there  came  a  rescue  crowd, 
And  snatched  two  from  the  grave. 

The  mother  released  two  only  sons 

Out  of  a  madman's  grasp — 
A  mother's  love  is  the  only  one 

That  will  forever  last. 

But  the  rent  that's  in  that  mother's  heart 

Xo  time  can  ever  heal, 
The  jar  that  set  their  lives  apart: 

The  scenes  about  the  well, 


MAXWELL.  Ill 

Her  darlings  lay  upon  the  ground, 

Their  spirits  gone  to  heaven; 
Xo  trace  of  life  in  them  was  found 

Save  the  promise  God  has  given. 

Xo  place  can  shut  the  soul  within — 

It  rests  outside  the  tomb; 
The  one  that  dies  and  is  free  from  sin 

Finds  in  God's  temple  a  boon. 

MAXWELL. 

Tn  early  days,  when  wild  woods  was  rife, 
The  people  sought  to  better  their  life; 
To  join  their  mites  was  a  common  rule, 
And  build  a  rural  district  school. 
So  the  people  here  did  just  the  same, 
And  built  a  cabin  before  the  frame; 
And  many  a  tale  the  by-gones  tell 
Of  how  we  courted  sweet  Rosie  Xell. 

The  older  boys  would  cut  the  wood, 

And  do  such  things  as  they  thought  they  should, 

While  the  girls  would  sweep  the  rustic  floor, 

And  hang  around  the  open  door. 

We  jumped  the  rope  and  dropped  the  'kerchief >  too, 

And  passed  the  dreary  winters  through; 

We  stood  in  a  line  our  lessons  to  spell, 

And  sought  a  place  by  sweet  Rosic  Xell. 


112 


INDIANA. 


A  hole  in  the  wall  transmitted  light, 

And  the  old  rude  benches  were  a  sight; 

You'd  see  them  setting  along  the  wall, 

For  ne'er  a  one  had  a  back  at  all. 

AVe'd  sit  there  like  a  crouching  'coon, 

And  throw  some  wads  across  the  room — 

For  this  is  what  the  old  folks  tell 

Of  the  pranks  they  played  with  sweet  Rosie  Xell. 


Some  gads  were  cut,  and  hid  around, 
For  those  who  played  and  acted  the  cknvn; 
And  often  it  happened  the  culprit  missed. 
And  an  innocent  back  would  writhe  and  twist 


MAXWELL.  118 

Beneath  the  flail  of  the  teaching  one, 

To  pay  the  debt  of  the  laugh  and  fun. 

For  this  is  the  way  they  cut  a  swell, 

And  attracted  the  attention  of  sweet  Rosie  Xell. 

The  windows  sometimes  were  paper  gauze; 
"\Ye  had  a  code  of  well-written  laws: 
The  absconder  must  always  meet  the  brunt 
For  taking  a  truant  rabbit  hunt; 
The  teacher  would  often  make  the  plan, 
And  often  he  had  but  one  eye  or  hand, 
And  yet  he  would  act  the  dude  and  swell 
To  gain  the  confidence  of  sweet  Rosie  Nell. 

And  this  is  the  way  old  Maxwell  grew, 

Until  the  district  was  cut  in  two. 

One  part  was  east  and  one  was  west — 

'Tis  bard  to  tell  you  which  was  best; 

For  often  we  met  of  evenings  to  see 

Which  was  the  best  at  a  spelling  bee, 

And  much  was  the  cunning  that  was  used  and  well 

To  be  best  man  with  -weet  Rosie  Xell. 

But  then  there  came  some  better  days, 
The  boys  rode  out  in  one-horse  chaise, 
And  now  our  name  is  spread  afar 
Since  we've  passed  the  code  of  the  three  R's. 
We  are  keeping  abreast  and  with  the  times 
By  making  of  teachers  and  divines; 
And  now  we  return  from  a  distance  to  tell 
Of  how  we  courted  sweet  Rosie  Xell. 

9 


114  INDIANA. 

THE  KISSING  BUG. 

Some  ladies  are  afraid  of  a  kissing  bug, 

And  cannot  sleep  o*  night, 
And  yet  they  emhrace  and  kiss  a  thug 

And  think  it  out  of  sight. 

This  hug  appears  when  snug  in  bed. 

And  you  are  sound  asleep; 
You'll  feel  it  crawling  o'er  your  head, 

And  touch  your  rosy  cheeks. 

He  steals  a  kiss,  then  off  he  goes, 

The  subject  sleeping  sound; 
He  leaves  the  impression  of  his  nose — 

In  the  morning  it  is  found. 

You'll  know  this  hug,  with  tweezers  sharp, 

And  beak  that's  very  black; 
You'll  feel  so  queer  about  the  heart 

As  he  takes  a  dainty  smack. 

This  i«  a  freak,  as  we  have  found, 

While  walking  in  the  park: 
That  ladies  pass  their  kisses  'round 

When  it  is  growing  dark. 

This  bug  has  plenty  of  cologne, 
And  smells  like  foaming  beer; 

lie  feels  himself  so  much  at  home 
When  on  a  lady's  ear, 


THE   HAPPPY    FARMER. 


Xo\v,  ladies,  you  should  guard  your  mouth, 

As  you  have  had  some  tips, 
Or  this  vagrant  will  break  in  your  house 

And  kiss  your  rosy  lips.  . 

THE  HAPPY  FAKMER. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

Out  in  his  little  potato  patch  to  hoe, 

With  the  weeds  falling  dead  all  around 

On  the  dark,  fertile,  gopherized  ground? 

It  is  quite  a  pretty  sight  to  see, 

With  the  Colorado  beetle  on  his  knee; 

But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

Out  in  his  little  meadow  to  mow, 

And  the  children  all  coming  out  to  play, 

Always  getting  in  the  sturdy  farmer's  way? 

Jt  is  a  sight  quite  pretty,  I  would  say, 

And  his  good  wife  is  tedding  of  the  hay; 

But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 
As  he  goes  out  his  seed  to  sow, 
With  the  midges  in  his  wheat, 
And  the  cheat  blossoms  sweet 
As  he  plods  across  the  field? 
He  knows  there'll  be  no  yield; 
But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 


116  INDIANA. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

As  his  prospects  are  brightening  up  so. 

With  the  pumpkin  on  the  vine, 

And  "his  hogs,  and  his  kine? 

But  the  cholera  will  come, 

And  the  fatal  black  tongue — 

But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 
As  he  hitches  up  his  team  to  go 
And  gather  the  golden  grain, 
In  the  snow  and  the  rain 
And  bring  it  to  the  barn? 
Which  is  the  custom  on  the  farm — 
But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

With  his  produce  all  heaped  in  a  row, 

As  he  starts  for  the  town 

And  the  prices  have  come  down? 

Then  he  trudges  all  around, 

And  no  market  is  found; 

But  he  is  a  happy  farmer,  just  so. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

Under  mortgages  and  debts  to  grow? 

As  he  starts  to  go  away 

Some  dude  will  halloo  "Hey!"" 

Then  the  farmer  will  look  around, 

And  the  imp  can't  be  found, 

For  he  is  a  muscled  farmer,  just  so, 


JOHN   CHINAMAN,   MY  JOE.  117 

Did  you  ever  see  a  farmer,  by  jo, 

As  the  Master  is  calling  him  to  go 

'Unto  his  final  rest 

With  the  good  and  oppressed? 

For  he  was  a  son  t>f  toil 

In  this  world  of  turmoil — 

But  he  was  a  happy  farmer,  by  jo. 

JOHN  CHINAMAN,  MY  JOE. 

Of  all  the  men  I  chance  to  meet, 
In  crowded  lane  or  on  the  street, 
With  blouse  around  his  chubby  beak, 
And  wooden  shoes  upon  his  feet, 

Is  John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

When  in  a  crowd  he'll  hustle  through, 
He  wore  a  plaid  he  called  a  "queue/' 
You'll  know  him  by  the  antique  shoe, 
And  eyes  that's  just  set  in  askew, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

He  wore  a  cap  drawn  o'er  his  skull, 
And  mice  and  rats  they  filled  his  hull, 
His  chop-sticks  came  unto  a  lull 
As  he  smoked  his  pipe  of  opiates  full, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 


118  INDIANA. 

A  mandarin,  we  call  the  chap 
In  wooden  shoes  and  turban  cap, 
And  beneath  his  chest  he  wore  a  flap,* 
This  mulligan  man  with  braided  plat, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

You'll  find  him  in  a  laundry  shop 
Filled  with  relics  unto  the  top; 
A  little  rice  to  fill  his  chops, 
And  a  couch  within  on  which  he  lops, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

He  little  eats,  and  little  drinks, 

And  of  his  soul  he  little  thinks; 

His  almond  eyes  he  blinks  and  blinks. 

His  pig-tail  queue  he  plaits  and  kinks. 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

His  complexion  is  of  a  tawny  hue, 
And  stature  like  a  Chinese  shrew, 
His  manners  he  cannot  renew, 
Except  by  the  teaching  of  Conl'uciu, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 
John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

*  Flap  is  used  for  the  word  apron. 


THE   PAINTER   POET,  J.   W.   RILEY.  119 

Some  day  he'll  pas-?  through  (loathly  throes, 
And  go  where  all  good  Cinnamon  goes, 
And  where  that  is  we  do  not  know. 
It  may  be  heaven,  or  it  may  he — so, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

And  here  we'll  leave  the  mulligan  man, 
And  all  akin  to  the  Orient  clan; 
There's  vice  enough  in  the  heathen  land 
To  hring  that  kingdom  to  a  strand, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe  John, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Joe. 

THE  PAINTER  POET,  J.  W.  RILEY. 

'Twas  on  a  painter's  scaffold, 

Adorning  the  faded  walls, 
That  our  poet  obtained  his  lessons 

In  those  scenes  aglow  for  all. 

But  he's  nohler  than  a  painter, 

With  an  eye  for  beauteous  scroll, 
And  has  penned  such  words  of  wisdom 

As  his  thoughts  in  music  roll. 

'Ti<  a  gift  of  art  so  cunning 

To  write  in  words  of  sweetest  rhythm, 
And  thus  portray  the  scenes  of  nature, 

Or  the  seraphs  God  has  given. 


120  INDIANA. 

I) ut  the  poet  pictures  nicely 
Beautiful  things  out  on  the  lea, 

As  he  sketches  through  his  optics 
Greenest  swards  in  waves  like  sea. 

With  now  and  then  a  fragrant  flower, 
Whose  sweet  aroma  fills  the  hreeze, 

Encircled  with  such  ruddy  petals 
The  heart's  delight  in  quest  of  ease. 

The  pen  is  talking  of  the  image 

Tn  the  mind  or  of  the  soul, 
As  it  speeds  hy  inspiration 

To  attain  the  good  or  goal. 

Thus  we  find  the  Hoosicr  Poet, 

In  thoughts  akin  to  the  mouldering  past, 

Holding  forth  a  vivid  picture 

Mirrored  hy  the  mind's  reflecting  cast. 

More  excellent  writings  have  ne'er  been  given 

In  a  strain  so  rich  and  pure, 
Flowing  gently  with  a  ripple, 

Everlasting  to  endure. 

rOCAIIOXTAS. 

Born  in  the  sylvan  wild, 

Inured  to  toil  and  strife, 
Meek  and  modest  was  the  child 

Who  strove  a  nomad  life. 


i'OCAHONTAS. 


Amidst  those  of  a  rubicund  line, 

Painted  in  warlike  array, 
This  innocent  in  amity  grew, 

With  the  villagers  in  frolicsome  play. 

Daughter  of  the  great  Powhattan  Chief, 

Heir  to  the  throne  of  her  race, 
Friend  to  the  Pilgrims  in  relief, 

With  venison  to  relieve  their  wan  grimace. 

In  trials  and  trouble  she's  true, 
For  grandeur  she  surely  was  horn; 

For  as  soon  as  the  war  dance  was  through 
She  brought  a  sweet  morsel  of  corn. 

But  a  noise  from  the  rattle  breaks  in, 

An  omen  of  war  and  of  peace; 
"Pis  a  sight  in  such  noise  and  din 

To  see  the  foe  crouch  for  relief. 

Adroitly  the  old  chief  raised 

His  war  club  o'er  his  crested  head, 

P>ut  Providence  by  Pocahontas  saved 

Captain  Smith  from  the  throes  of  the  dead. 

0  child  inspired  with  such  love, 

Whose  motives  were  friendly  and  good — 

An  image  so  pure  like  the  dove 

\Yhich  abode  on  the  Savior  in  the  wood. 


J22  INDIANA. 

Xow  with  vain  design  these  warriors  adorn. 
Sad  heart,  knowing  secrets  of  right; 

A  message  to  the  village  is  home 

As  she  steals  through  the  darkness  of  night. 

They  were  saved  by  the  warning  of  one, 

A  goddess  in  savage  dress, 
A  life  like  a  ray  of  the  Son 

A,Yhich  God  has  pardoned  and  blessed. 

She  was  held  as  a  ransom  of  peace 

Till  the  red  warriors  mellowed  in  strife, 

But  never  was  her  heart  quite  released. 
For  TCodolph  had  made  her  his  wife. 

She  was  taken  to  the  court  of  St.  James, 
An  honored  and  competent  gue-'t, 

A  wonder  to  those  of  the  Thames^ 
Delighted  and  fondly  caressed. 

A  union  of  hearts  and  of  hands, 

A  union  of  tribes  and  of  lands, 

A  union  of  posterity  still 

Remains  in  the  Old  Dominion,  and  will, 

HAXS  SPADGEXS'  HEX. 

Xow  come,  old  Speck,  I'll  make  dot  nest, 

And  put  vone  dozzen  in  it; 
You'll  git  some  rest  and  I'll  be  bleshed 

Wid  thirteen  checks  within  it. 


HAXS  SPADGENS*  HEX.  128 

Just  git  right  on  these  eggs  ov  your'n, 

And  varm  dee  dormant  germ; 
I'll  give  doe  food  to  hatch  dee  brood 

And  keep  clem  fertile  and  varm. 

Madam  Spadgens  is  vanting  some  fowels 

To  sell  and  buy  some  yarns, 
And  because  she's  none  she  sometimes  growls 

And  makes  some  great  alarms. 

Xow  yer  set  thri  weeks;  I'll  try  dem  eggs 

And  see  der  good  a  tall; 
I'll  hold  dee  light  so  nice  and  bright, 

And  votch  dee  silihonette  on  der  wall. 

Oil,  vife,  come  hor  and  votch  right  thar, 

And  see  if  yer  can  skiver 
If  dee  shadow  thar  is  downy  far, 

Or  shades  ov  a  torpid  liver. 

Oh,  yaw,  yaw,  yaw!  it  moves!  it  moves! 

These  eggs  vill  soon  be  checkcns; 
Tey'll  scratch  me  flowers  aft  rainy  showers, 

And  then  thar'll  be  dee  dickens. 

And  now  1  lias  dem  all  but  vone, 

Dee  shell  seems  not  a  pippen; 
I'll  press  it  vittle  gist  for  vun, 

Pooh!  pooh!  it  crashed!  it's  rotten! 


12  4:  INDIANA. 

And  now  I  has  de  hull  of  clem, 

Dee  ole  bird's  alers  chicken; 
I'll  build  a  pin  to  put  dem  in, 

To  save  dee  flowers  from  thar  plucken. 

Xow  I  see  thass  logger  beers 
For  me  and  Dolly  Spadgens; 

Vee'll  eat  saner  krout  and  .sip  about 
From  dee  foaming,  frothy  flagons. 

Some  fruits  vee'll  raise  along  wid  checks, 

To  kape  from  constipation; 
Some  grapes  and  eggs  and  yellow  legs 

Will  form  our  daily  rations. 

THE  ROBIK 

The  robin  built  her  clever  nest 
In  the  fork  of  an  apple  tree; 

'Twas  there  I  saw  her  pale  red  breast, 
And  eggs  so  blue  to  see. 

She  sang  a  song  from  a  tilting  limb, 

'Twas  early  in  the  morn; 
Her  nest  was  filled  unto  the  brim 

With  birdies  newly  born. 

I  waved  my  hand  above  the  nest, 
They  chirped,  and  chirped  again, 

And  stretched  their  necks  their  very  best- 
'Twas  only  but  a  sham. 


THE    ROBIN. 


125 


THE     ROBIN. 


The  tune  she  sang  was  loud  and  sweet, 
It  soothed  the  young  ones'  hreasts; 

She  soared  away  for  some  food  to  eat, 
As  nature  had  taught  her  host. 


126 


The  young  birds  looked  at  the  mother  above, 
And  wondered  why  such  cheer: 

'T was  the  sweetest  melody  of  family  love 
That  one  could  ever  hear. 

She  watched  the  nestlings  clothed  in  down, 

As  day  by  day  they  grew, 
Until  their  pinions  feathered  round, 

Then  from  their  nest  they  flew. 

They  now  are  singing  a  robin's  lay, 

As  children  ought  to  do; 
It  banishes  sorrow  from  each  day, 

As  life  they  journey  through. 

OUR  FLAG. 

Our  flag  still  waves  o'er  Xo.  9, 
It  floats  out  from  the  steeple; 

This  is  a  country  great  and  grand, 
A  patriotic  people. 

Some  heartless  wretch  removed  it  once — 

An  insult  to  the  teacher; 
She  played  the  part  of  Judy  Punch, 

The  handsome  little  creature. 

She  then  procured  a  big  pop-gun — 

It  bore  an  ivory  handle; 
It  reminds  one  of  a  petty  tale — 

'Twill  alwavs  raise  a  scandal. 


A   VIEW   OF    NATURE. 


And  now  the  parties  have  taken  it  up, 
The  hoot  owl  loudly  screeches; 

Politicians  are  full  of  sup — 
They  have  it  in  their  breeches. 

Patriotism  is  not  so  free 

Expressed  by  public  speakers; 

JTis  only  a  little  bragadoshee — 
They  are  but  office-seekers. 

Just  like  the  fox  said  to  the  ass: 
"Your  ears  they  will  betray  thccy' 

No  matter  if  you  have  the  bra-s 
And  arc  working'  for  the  party. 

"We'll  kill  Hie  goat  and  whip  the  kid 
That  removed  the  flying  missile; 

Then  the  lady  can  lay  down 
Her  Yankee  belt  and  pistol. 

Joan  of  Arc  was  a  heroine — 
She  rode  a  flying  charger; 

But  all  there  is  of  that  teacher  now: 
Her  name  is  a  little  larger. 

A  VI KW  OF  X.VITKE. 

Ambition  leads 'to  great  success; 
A  1  income  hand  is  ever  Messed 
With  all  this  earth  doth  hold 
In  I'ee  or  treasures  of  shining  gold. 


128  INDIANA. 

A  shiftless  person  is  all  a  glow, 
Preparing  a  field  some  seeds  to  sow, 
It  may  be  great,  it  may  be  small, 
But  knowledge  gained  surpasses  all. 

A  childish  mind  is  but  a  blank, 
Devolving  around  just  like  a  crank, 
Adhering  to  either  good  or  bad, 
Making  a  man  out  of  a  lad. 

Proper  schooling  is  what  one  needs, 
Tearing  away  the  noxious  weeds, 
And  using  skillfully  a  pruning  knife 
To  shape  the  tree  for  after  life. 

Education  is  a  nursery  bed 
Out  of  which  our  thoughts  are  fed, 
And,  judging  by  the  streams  that  flow, 
People  may  our  culture  know. 

Cood  nature  smiled  upon  the  child, 
Embracing  him  when  very  wild, 
Inviting  him  to  come  and  rest, 
Peering  through  her  folds  of  dress. 

KIND  DEEDS. 

Little  deeds  of  kindness 
Always  are  at  hand, 

Eeady  to  remind  us 
Greatness  is  a  man. 


THE    MONON    WRECK.  129 

Storing  up  a  treasure 

Unto  the  garner's  fill, 
With  a  social  wisdom, 

Should  be  our  only  will. 

Working  in  the  sunshine, 

With  exalted  cheer, 
Elevating  mankind, 

With  nothing  for  to  fear. 

Uniting  all  in  friendship 

Which  should  ever  be, 
Forming  of  a  union 

To  calm  a  troubled  sea. 

#          *          #          *          * 

Come,  board  the  ship  that  leads  to  life, 

Whose  sails  are  made  of  love, 
And  banish  tilings  which  lead  to  strife, 

And  sail  to  God  above. 


THE  MONON  WRECK. 

OUR   LAST  RIDE. 

The  train  is  coming  yonder,  near, 
The  conductor  calls  the  station  clear, 
Then  outward  move  the  busy  throng 
l?eady  for  their  stepping  on. 

HI 


130  INDIANA. 

A  signal  waved  says  all  is  well, 
And  now  we  hear  the  parting  bell; 
The  engineer  opes  the  steam  chest  throes, 
Then  swifter  than  a  dart  she  goes. 

She  glides  along  quite  at  her  ease, 
The  swiftness  causes  a  gentle  breeze; 
The  wheels  are  creaking  on  the  frosty  rails, 
Just  like  a  bird  she  nimbly  sails. 

One  mile  is  passed  and  all  is  fun: 
Two  miles  are  made  —  the  thing  is  done: 
We  are  crossing  over  Sugar  creek  bridge, 
And  starting  on  the  graded  ridge. 


trikes  against  a  broken  rail, 
When  all  the  cars  it  does  derail, 
And  down  they  plunge  into  the  deep, 
A  depth  of  more  than  sixty  feet. 

She  rolled  over  just  afore  and  aft, 
The  occupants  turning  like  a  shaft, 
Before  she  reaches  this  mournful  place, 
Where  each  the  other's  soul  embraced. 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  crew, 
As  if  they  knew  not  what  to  do; 
Then  came  sad  and  lamenting  cries 
From  a  wreck  of  cars  as  fine  as  flies, 


THE   MOXOX   WRECK.  131 

Tears  arc  flowing  thick  and  fast 
From  every  one  of  the  mangled  mass; 
And,  laying  there,  we  hear  their  prayers, 
Asking  the  Lord  to  relieve  their  cares: 

"Our  Heavenly  Father!  wilt  Thou  draw  near, 
And  hear  our  AVOC  in  supplication  here; 
Save  us  from  this  wreck  of  flame, 
Where  dearest  comrades  have  heen  slain." 

To  the  nearest  town  a  messenger  made. 
While  on  the  ground  the  dead  are  laid. 
Oh,  how  terrible  are  the  moaning  sighs, 
With  pitiful  appeals  and  last  good-byes! 

Hut  there  they  lay  on  the  crimson  snow  - 
Their  hearts  have  ceased  to  ehh  and  flow; 
Quite  as  cold  as  a  frozen  chunk. 
With  a  lady's  heart  upon  a  stump. 

Which  was  so  far  from  her  native  home: 
The  ancient  city  of  old  Rome; 
Never  again  to  reach  that  clime, 
And  hear  the  bell  of  St.  Peter's  chime. 

And  now  the  flames  begin  to  light 
The  demolished  cars,  which  adds  to  fright. 
For  fear  that  all  will  burn  to  death. 
Oh,  God!  intervene  and  save  the  rest! 


132  INDIANA. 

And  yonder  in  the  wreck  I  see 
A  man  that's  pinioned  down  by  the  knee, 
And  hear  him  calmly  for  to  say: 
"Cut,  oh,  cut  my  leg  away!" 

But  a  jackscrew  from  the  mail  caboose 
Is  now  applied  and  lets  him  loose, 
With  many  thanks  to  these  brave  men — 
For  greater  heroes  ne'er  have  been. 

There  was  a  mother,  frantic  and  wild, 
Looking  for  her  little  child, 
Which  in  her  fright  had  run  away 
To  the  nearest  house  of  that  sad  fray. 

And  as  that  mother  paced  to  and  fro, 
She  found  some  footprints  in  the  snow, 
And,  leaping  onward  with  breathless  bound, 
Her  loving  daughter  soon  was  found. 

And  such  a  meeting  ne'er  has  been — 
It  moistened  the  eyes  of  the  bravest  men, 
While  in  her  arms  she  clasped  so  dear 
The  object  of  her  joy  and  fear. 

But  four  are  dead — they  speak  no  more: 
The  Savior  has  their  souls  in  store, 
Awaiting  of  the  Judgment  Day, 
Where  all  is  good,  or  sad  dismay. 


A   REVIVAL   MEETING.  13o 


A  EEVIVAL  MEETING. 

Tis  long  to  be  remembered, 

Those  grand  old  meetings  of  yore, 

Those  songs  of  cheer  which  soothed  the  ear- 

'Twas  never  so  before. 

Xone  tired  by  oft  times  meeting, 

Xor  love  of  brotherly  greeting; 

'Twas  a  Christians'  old  reunion, 

Partaking  of  the  Lord's  communion. 

To  preach  the  gospel  was  God's  command, 
Preach  it  boldly  in  every  land, 
Teach  it  plainly  in  every  truth, 
Gleaning  carefully,  like  ancient  TJuth; 
Converting  -inners  to  God's  embrace, 
To  bear  the  cross  with  heavenly  grace, 
And  be  a  soldier  in  the  glorious  strife, 
And  make  atonement  for  a  future  life. 

Be  Christ's  disciples,  and  fear  no  ill, 
And  fearlessly  teach  the  Savior's  will; 
And  make  it  plain  to  every  man, 
Proving  all  things  from  a  Bible  stand. 
The  work  must  be  so  good  and  true 
To  insure  the  soul  its  passport  through 
To  the  holy  city  not  made  with  hands, 
Vriierc  sks  the  kinn  of  hosanna  bands. 


134  INDIANA. 

The  streets  ire  paved  in  purest  gold, 
And  altars  adorned  in  emeralds  old. 
And  with  sapphires  and  rubies  just  awry, 
Which  shines  like  constellations  in  the  sky. 
Xo  crown  of  thorns  upon  the  head, 
But  one  of  joy  and  love  instead. 
And  thus  remains  the  Christian  fraternity 
Throughout  the  ages  of  all  eternity. 

A  myriad  of  voices  with  anthem  ring, 

While  noble  evangelists  lead  the  van; 

Like  David's  harp,  it  cheers  the  soul, 

And  encourages  one  to  attain  the  goal 

Which  rests  beyond  the  starry  sky, 

Where  never  a  soul  will  say  good-bye, 

But  rert  eternal  around  the  throne, 

And  join  with  the  saints  in  "Home,  Sweet  Home. 


MY  MARY  OF  MISSOURI. 

My  Mary  of  Missouri 

Was  quick,  and  blithe,  and  shy, 
A  goddess  of  simplieit}r, 

With  dark  and  hazel  eye. 
She  was  as  modest  as  could  be, 

And  playful  as  a  kitten; 
I  watched  the  expression  of  her  face 

To  see  she  meant  no  mitten. 


MY    MARY    OF    MISSOURI. 


T  advanced  a  little  farther 

And  mildly  said:     "Kind  lady, 
Let's  seat  ourselves  down  by  the  brook, 

And  converse  where  it  is  shady.'' 
Her  cheeks  were  reddened  to  a  blush, 

But  cutely  she  assented; 
We  talked  about  the  pinks  and  ferns, 

And  things  so  complimented. 

Her  nature  was  a  child  of  mirth, 

As  things  of  nature  blended; 
I  spoke  in  tones  quite  soft  and  low, 

Tn  words  of  love  intended. 
The  query,  though,  I  never  put, 

But  matched  some  buds  and  cherries, 
And  watched  the  mirror  of  a  soul — 

'Twas  like  two  image  fairies. 

I  concealed  my  thoughts  from  one  I  loved, 
With  flowing,  shining  tresses; 

Her  face  was  fair,  1  do  declare, 
And  lips  were  pure  caresses. 

The  day  was  calm  and  very  warm, 
The  woods  were  fairly  humming, 

When  two  young  hearts  were  beating  fast- 
Like  pheasants  they  were  drumming. 

We  started  off  a-rambling 

Among  the  dell-  and  bowers; 
We  culled  the  sweetest  ro-es, 

And  all  the  pretty  flowers. 


130  INDIANA. 

The  cows  lowed  in  the  pastures, 
And  birds  were  singing  sweet; 

My  eyes  were  on  those  dimples, 
Like  rubies,  in  her  cheeks. 

I  moved  to  her  some  closer, 

And  looked  gently  in  her  face, 
And  threw  my  arms  around 

Her  neat  and  slender  waist. 
My  heart  felt  like  'twas  yearning 

As  neared  the  time  to  part- 
Just  then  I  did  discover 

She  had  my  soul  and  heart. 

I  asked  a  future  meeting, 

She  bowed  with  graceful  bliss, 
And,  improving  precious  moment?. 

I  stole  a  pleasant  kiss. 
I  vowed  that.  I  would  have  her, 

Tf  ever  such  could  be, 
That  she  should  be  my  darling 

And  I  her  fiance. 

I  asked  her  out  for  walking — 

'Twas  only  for  a  plea, 
And  quickly  she  responded: 

"I'll  journey  long  with  thee." 
Then  raising  her  golden  bracelet- 

The  fairest  in  the  land — 
I  placed  the  shining  signet 

Of  love  upon  her  hand. 


MONEY    MOVES.  187 


'Twas  settled  then,  forever, 

That  we  would  never  part: 
That  T  would  have  a  Letter  half, 

And  she  a  loving  heart. 
A  cottage  on  the  hill  revealed 

A  pleasant  country  home, 
Where  I  reigned  jointly  as  a  king, 

And  she  heir  to  the  throne. 

MONEY  MOVES. 

Men's  hearts  are  moved  by  money, 
As  the  wind  moves  the  snow; 

And  it  is  a  great  incentive 
For  them  to  make  a  show. 

From  the  peasant  in  his  cottage 
To  the  king  upon  the  throne, 

You'll  find  the  power  of  money 
To  be  the  whole  backbone. 

The  jingling  of  the  guinea, 
And  the  shining  of  the  dust, 

Will  wear  away  corrosion 
And  brighten  up  the  rust. 

Tt  will  bring  us  to  our  duty 

AVhen  everything  else  would  fail; 

It  will  stay  us  in  our  business, 
If  our  efforts  are  but  stale. 


•J3S 


INDIANA. 


MARY'S  LAMB. 

Mary's  laml.)  is  dead  long  ago, 
But  young  ones  just  as  gay 

Are  running  in  the  fields,  you  know, 
And  just  a?  nice  at  play. 


MARY'S    LAMB. 


The  road  that  Mary  went  to  school 
Is  now  macadam  or  a  pike; 

The  boys  and  girls  all  break  the  rules 
By  riding  on  a  bike. 


LANGUAGE.  139 


The  old  school  house  is  torn  away, 

Xo  trace  of  it  is  found; 
But  a  new  one  built  in  modern  ways 

Xow  stands  upon  the  ground. 

The  lamb  that  ate  from  Mary's  hand 
Has  greater  advantages  now: 

Since  Grace  a  new  invention  planned, 
It  sucks  the  Jersey  cow. 

The  Jersey  loved  the  lambkin  so 

She  treated  it  with  pride, 
And  everywhere  that  she  would  go, 

It  trotted  by  her  side. 

The  children  say  they  will  not  release 
The  lamb  from  off  the  farm. 

And  that  they  want  its  pretty  fleece 
To  make  their  stocking  yarn. 

O     «/ 

And  as  the  years  are  passing  by, 
You  need  not  think  it  strange 

If  airships  sail  beneath  the  sky, 
Like  meteors  in  their  range. 

LANGUAGE. 

Language  flows  from  the  lips  of  him 
Who  speaks  with  cultured  tongue; 

It's  music  just  as  choice  as  when 
The  organ's  keys  are  sprung. 


140  INDIANA. 

But  children  learn  without  a  will 
Those  sweetest  rippling  notes, 

Absorbing  of  the  teacher's  skill — 
His  actions  largely  floats. 

Good  manners  should  predominate: 
Fse  diligence  in  every  plan: 

With  care  in  showing  to  create, 
Will  make  the  better  man. 


THE  WAESHIP  MAIXE. 

The  Maine  moved  onward  in  her  glory, 

To  the  tropic  isle  of  Spain, 
Where  she  anchored  in  the  harbor, 

And  freedom  shrieked  in  vain. 
She  floated  o'er  the  foaming  waters, 

Take  the  soaring  albatross, 
When  the  roaring  billows  threatened 

And  the  sea  was  upward  tossed. 

Then  she  sailed  into  Havana  harbor, 

With  her  ensign  to  the  breeze — 
Just  a  thing  of  perfect  beauty, 

Valiant  sailors  at  their  ease. 
But  the  fiendish  Spanish  warriors, 

Filled  with  murder  and  rapine, 
Fired  a  shot  from  just  beneath  her, 

From  an  electric  magazine. 


THE  WARSHIP   MAINE.  141 

The  good  old  ship  was  rent  asunder, 

And  our  heroes  writhed  with  pain; 
And  now  this  nation  throbs  with  fervor 

To  redress  the  wrongs  to  the  battle  Maine. 
This  brings  to  bear  the  Monroe  Doctrine, 

Severing  chains  of  bonded  men, 
Dating  back  to  some  old  country 

By  colonizing  and  ties  of  ken. 

Uncle  Sam  will  soon  be  heeded 

By  ancient  powers  of  kings  and  queens, 
"Which  lie  along  the  old  world  oceans, 

Great  in  pomp  and  showy  scenes. 
Every  patriotic  American  citizen 

Scorns  intrusion  by  a  foe, 
Fearless,  dauntless,  waiting  patient 

For  their  orders  for  to  go 

And  uphold  the  Starry  Banner 

Of  the  Union  strong  and  grand, 
Sailing  outward  on  the  ocean 

To  the  shores  of  another  land. 
\Ve  don't  desire  the  Isle  of  Cuba, 

But  are  longing  for  to  see 
Her  name  inscribed  like  other  nations 

AVith  a  banner  pure  and  free. 


142  INDIANA. 

THANKSGIVING. 

The  turkeys  are  so  i'at  and  nice, 
And  bounteous  crops  are  clear; 

We  give  our  thanks  for  the  nation's  life, 
With  a  festival  once  a  year. 

In  the  days  of  sixty-three  and  four, 
When  no  one  knew  her  fate, 

We  put  our  trust  in  Almighty  Power 
To  save  the  old  Ship  of  State. 

And  in  the  end  the  right  prevailed, 

Xo  ribs  or  keel  were  rent, 
But  onward  against  the  tide  she  sailed, 

On  a  glorious  mission  bent. 

And  when  the  close  was  surely  known, 
Our  hearts  beat  free  but  still: 

The  caiiM'  of  liberty  was  widely  sown 
O'er  woodland,  vale  and  hill. 

Xo  color  line  divides  us  now, 

Our  wounds  have  healed  quite  well; 

And  all  to  the  same  Omnipotent  bow, 
With  free,  unrestrained  good  will. 

We  thank  the  Lord  who  gave  the  strength 

This  blessing  to  secure, 
And  bring  a  struggle  to  an  end 

We  hope  will  long  endure. 


A    COUNTRY    SAWMILL   WAGON.  14.' 

Xo  men  arc  now  dragged  through  the  street, 

And  papers  burned  with  ire; 
The  press  is  free  with  moral  sheet, 

If  it  can  find  a  buyer. 

Xo  railroads  on  the  tunnel  .plan, 

But  on  an  elevation, 
And  lie  who  rides  must  be  a  man — 

A  part  of  a  living  nation. 

Xow  all  of  this  was  brought  about 
By  pluck  and  might  together: 

The  boys  in  blue  did  freely  shout— 
Their  blood  did  stain  the  heather. 

And  thus  we  have  Thanksgiving  Day 
To  commune  and  bless  each  other, 

"When  we  can  sing  and  talk  and  pray, 
And  commingle  like  a  brother. 

A   COUNTRY  SAWMILL  WAG  OX. 

Some  wheels  were  thick  and  some  were  thin, 
I  blocked  the  log  on  with  a  pin. 
And  through  the  hounds  was  thrust  a  pole 
To  stop  the  haggard-looking  hole. 

Rome  chains  were  large  and  some  were  small, 
And  some  could  not  be  found  at  all; 
It  is  the  very  best  pattern  of  the  kind, 
And  neither  wheel  will  fall  in  line. 


144  INDIANA. 

A  wonderful  thing  is  the  coupling  pin- 
It's  crooked  without  and  crooked  within; 
The  bolsters  were  staid  up  with  a  wire, 
"\Vhich  played  a  tune  like  an  ancient  lyre. 

And  in  the  world  it  has  no  peer — 
It's  rattled  along  for  many  a  year; 
But  I  must  confide  unto  a  friend: 
It's  good  enough  to  keep  and  lend. 

It  has  gone  through  woods  and  through  the  mire, 
And  over  the  rocks  which  sparkled  fire; 
But  on  it  went,  with  teamster  friend, 
Until  it  met  a  final  end. 

It  struck  a  bowlder  a  heavy  jolt, 
Which  broke  the  axles  and  severed  a  bolt; 
Then  came  a  crash  amidst  mud  and  rain — 
There  in  a  heap  it  still  remains. 


A  CHARACTERIZED  SCHOOL. 

In  the  upper  camp  the  boss  is  large, 
He  runs  his  boat  just  like  a  barge, 
And  now  I  think  he  is  aground— 
You  ought  to  hear  him  blow  and  sound. 


A    COUNTRY    ELDER. 


This  teacher's  name  is  firorgic  Shuhx, 
lie  courts  UK-  girls  by  I'teling  pulse; 
And  when  he's  far  in  ilie  abyss, 
He  seals  the  bargain  with  a  kiss. 

In  the  lower  camp  the  beet;  are  thick, 
And  Homer  stirs  'em  with  a  stick; 
lie  bids  them  all  to  be  quite  still, 
His  voice  is  very  harsh  and  shrill — 
You'd  think  it  was  a  raging  storm, 
Or  the  devil's  imp  in  uniform. 


A  COUNTRY  ELDEE. 

An  elder  once,  whose  name  was  Claron, 
Was  hunting  cows  one  starry  night; 

He  did  not  meet  the  rose  of  Sharon, 
But  fell  into  a  pretty  plight. 

By  chance  he  passed  a  suitor's  mansion, 
And  leaned  so  gently  on  the  gate: 

As  two  young  men  went  by  to  sanction, 
This  praying  elder  pulled  his  freight. 

He  turned  his  face  in  shadowed  darkness, 

For  fear  he  would  suspicion  'rouse: 
"Halloo,  my  boy,  bad  time  o'  night 
That  you  arc  out  a-hunting  cows." 

11 


INDIANA. 

"This  is  A  sight  quite  pretty,  deacon, 

Silent  prayers  are  heard  above; 

Xo  wonder  that  you  look  so  sneakin' 

When  you're  out  a-making  love 

"With  another  man's  poor  maiden, 

When  he's  off  a-teaching  school: 
Just  because  he's  heavy  laden, 
You  try  to  play  him  for  a  fool.'' 

DEATH  OF  D.  W.  VOORHEES. 

>  He  has  served  at  the  bar  of  justice, 

With  all  his  skill  and  power; 
His  strength  was  that  of  <a  giant, 
An  orator  was  his  dower. 

His  voice  was  sweet  and  musical, 
The  ear  'twould  fairly  charm; 

His  metaphors  like  the  Savior's, 
This  hero  of  the  farm. 

He's  served  in  the  nation's  Congress; 

And  did  his  work  so  well 
That  all  are  singing  praises 

Who  mourn  his  loss  to  tell. 

He  served  the  people  valiantly, 
Their  cause  he  did  defend: 

Like  Cincinnatus,  the  chieftain,- 
He  served  them  to  the  end. 


THE   FROG. 


Oh,  the  noble  things  of  wisdom 
For  which  he  gave  his  might, 

And  stood  so  peer  and  manly 
Until  he  got  it  right. 

He  advocated  building 

A  national  library  tall  and  wide, 
And  lived  io  see  it  completed, 

Whatever  may  betide. 

But  the  Savior's  knocking,  calling 
For  spirits  when  they're  right, 

And  taking  home  his  children 
From  darkness  into  light. 

So  He  claimed  this  national  hero, 
Whose  name  was  rightly  given, 

To  come  and  meet  the  angels 
Before  the  bar  of  heaven. 

And  in  the  hour  of  darkness, 

\Yhen  the  stars  were  shining  bright, 

The  soul  of  the  Indianian 

Took  its  upward  course  or  flight. 

THE  FROG. 

The  frog  sits  on  the  old  mill  dam, 
And  catches  bugs  and  flies, 

And  when  he  hears  a  noise  at  hand, 
He  just  leaps  in  and  dives. 


148 


INDIANA. 


You  can  sec  his  kicking  legs, 
At  which  you're  sure  to  gaze, 

And  see  the  moving  of  the  dregs 
In  little  circling  waves. 


THE    FRCG. 


And  when  he  reaches  the  other  .shore, 
You'll  hear  him  halloo  again; 

It  may  be  like  some  distant  roar, 
Or  like  the  bleating  lamb. 

And  as  you're  passing  some  old  pond, 
You'd  think  the  demon's  there, 

To  hear  them  halloo  from  each  frond, 
A  lesdon  of  voices  rare. 


PEARL    BRYAN'S   FATE.  141 » 

And  when  you  look  around  to  find 

What  made  the  tragic  sound. 
You'll  see  that  you  are  far  behind — 

Xo  trace  of  them  is  found. 

And  if  you  chance  to  locate  one, 

You  need  not  be  surprised, 
For  just  above  the  slimy  scum 

You'll  see  his  piercing  eyes. 

And  if  the  coast  is  not  so  clear 

That  he  would  like  to  land, 
He'll  duck  again,  so  much  in  fear, 

And  seek  some  other  strand. 

The  tree-frog  is  so  very  odd, 

And  yet  he's  very  strange: 
His  color  changes  from  a  clod 

To  things  on  which  they  range. 

PEA  EL  BRYAX'S  FATE. 

Pretty  Pearl  Bryan  had  an  elegant  home, 

With  flowers  and  green  pastures  whither  she  roamed; 

Her  face  like  a  rosebud,  and  teeth  snowy  white. 

A  gem  of  pure  beauty — a  star  of  the  night. 

There  came  to  this  cottage,  in  care  of  AVill  W<.od, 
A  wooer,  Scott  Jackson,  an  imp  of  the  lewd. 
And  betrayed  this  kind  maiden. herheart  he  did  break, 
Who  laid  down  her  life  for  a  villain's  sake. 


150  INDIANA. 

He  absconded  to  Cincinnati,  and  dentistry  took. 
And  left  a  true  love  he  willfully  forsook, 
To  pine  in  true  nature — a  false,  fickle  friend, 
He  never  intended  his  ways  for  to  mend. 

There  came  a  quick  message:     U0h!  come  to  mr.  dear, 
I  never  once  thought  how  I  treated  you  here. 
Oh,  come  to  me,  darling.     I'll  make  it  all  right: 
Make  your  departure  in  shadow  of  night." 

Shrill  shrieked  the  whistle,  she  then  bade  adieus, 
And  soon  there  was  flying  this  wonderful  news. 
She's  safe  in  Queen  City,  a  medium  is  found, 
And  her  future  destiny  this  witch  does  expound'. 

She  goes  to  the  station  her  steps  to  retake, 
Where  "Walling  consoles  her,  which  is  a  mistake. 
A  carriage  is  procured  for  making  a  drive, 
When  this  poor  girl  is  last  seen  alive. 

A  darkey  was  secured  as  coachman  in  disguise, 
To  the  shore  of  Kentucky  they  quickly  arrive; 
These  steeds  of  assassins  are  making  good  stride 
To  a  place  in  the  bushes,  their  mischief  to  hide. 

The  carriage  is  stopped  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
Where  two  cruel  wretches  have  landed  their  load; 
With  cocaine  and  dagger  these  fiends,  'tis  said, 
Relieved  this  poor  damsel  of  a  beautiful  head. 


PEARL  UKYAN'S  FATE.  151 

When   the  moon's  rays  reflected  the  bright,   shining 

steel, 

She  fainted  within  and  began  for  to  kneel. 
"Oh,  God,  save  the  distressed,  and  care  for  me  quick! 
Take  me  to  heaven."     Then  came  the  death  lick. 

She  sank  on  the  leaflets,  her  blood  stained  the  thyme; 
Thus  ended  the  most  brutish  of  modern  crime — 
All  for  the  lusts  or  passions  of  men, 
Whose  doom  is  the  scaffold  or  work  in  the  pen. 

The  darkey  is  frightened  nigh  unto  death. 
\nd  (lees  with  the  horses  that's  throbbing  for  breath, 
And  leaves  the  two  murderers  afoot  for  to  flee, 
Witli  the  head  in  a  satchel,  as  bloody  as  can  bo. 

A  search  of  their  clothing  reveals  spots  crimson  red, 
Hut  where,  Oh!  where  is  the  poor  victim's  head? 
Tis  sunk  in  the  liver,  or  hid  in  the  ground, 
Xever,  'tis  supposed,  by  man  to  be  found. 

Xow  these  Herods  are  landed  inside  of  a  jail, 
And  leave  the  old  parents  to  weep  and  to  wail 
The  loss  of  their  darling,  so  dear  unto  them, 
Slain  by  assassins — imps  of  good  men. 

A  mob  is  now  raising:  they  quake,  it  is  said, 
And  feel  the  cold  chill-  at  the  loss  of  their  heads. 
.vn  appeal  is  now  taken  to  Kentucky  for  fear 
'Tis  only  a-hn-tening  to  meet  the  cold  bier. 


lf)2  INDIANA. 

These  men  they  must  hang,  the  jury  did  say, 
Until  they  are  dead,  a  debt  for  to  pay, 
For  killing  a  maiden  just  in  her  beauty  and  bloom, 
And  now  lies  headless  in  a  mouldering  tomb. 

They  ascended  the  scaffold — a  ransom  of  blood; 
The  trap  door  is  sprung,  and  Oh!  what  a  thud! 
Two  bodies  are  swinging  at  the  end  of  a  cord, 
Their  spirits  ascended  to  the  court  of  our  Lord. 

Xo  telling  which  way  the  spirits  will  go — 
Whether  'tis  up,  or  far,  far  below; 
One  thing  is  certain:  'tis  better  by  odds 
To  be  a  good  person,  a  child  of  God's. 

BOTANICAL  SCIKXCE. 

Our  botany  comes  from  Linnanis  of  old, 
And  to  my  mind  it  seems  so  cold; 
Peering  through  those  stalks  and  stipes, 
My  mind  does  wander  as  I  write. 

By  subterranean  we  view  beneath  the  ground, 
And  find  those  things  that  support  the  frond, 
And  merge  them  into  parts  that  suit 
All  other  ones  above  the  root. 

By  aerial  we  view  the  crown, 
Within  which  the  germ  is  i'ound, 
As  it  nods  in  the  waving  air, 
Closed  within  its  capsule  hair. 


TIIIC    CRITIC    PRO   TKM. 


And  as  tlic  petals  die  and  go, 
The  seed  is  ready  for  to  sow, 
"Which  is  done'  by  nature's  hand, 
Seeding  all  the  flowery  land. 

By  the  biting'  of  the  frost 
The  strength  of  nature  all  is  lost; 
The  shell  is  cracked,  the  stoma  opes, 
And  in  the  air  the  seed  now  floats. 

THE  CRITIC  PRO  TEM. 

A  critic  once  had  lots  of  cheek, 
He  treated  people  very  indiscreet; 
To  slander  them  he  thought  it  fun — 
The  imp,  the  rascal  thus  begun. 

lie  sought  the  weak  to  get  a  clew, 
His  very  language  would  make  one  spew, 
And  would  throw  the  bile  from  off  the  liver — 
The  rubbish  of  this  grammar-giver. 

P>y  chance  he  thought  he'd  change  the  scene 
And  introduce  a  weather  bulletin; 
I'ut  by  the  by  it  proved  so  hard— 
The  signal  came  on  a  mourning  card. 

It  seemed  to  him  to  be  most  neat 
To  brand  the  pupils  of  things  not  meek; 
But  all  of  thi-  is  like  one  vain 
Seeking  others  to  lay  the  blame. 


lf>4 


INDIANA. 


AYABASH  COLLEGE. 

In  days  of  forests  primeval, 

"When  people  knew  little  but  roam, 
There  arose  an  enlightening  upheaval 

To  educate  people  at  home. 


WABASH   COLLEGE. 


The  idea  was  sown  to  germinate 
In  an  edifice  great  and  grand, 

"Twas  not  known  'twould  terminate 
With  such  fame  throughout  the  land. 


WABASH    COLLEGE.  loo 


Its  name  was  christened  in  glory 
By  those  who  carried  it  through; 

Their  heads  grew  frail  and  quite  hoary — 
'Twas  greater  than  anyone  knew. 

It  grew  like  a  thing  of  God's  rearing, 

Slowly  and  firmly,  by  degrees, 
By  mites  and  similar  clearing^ 

By  donors  like  Whitlock  and  Simon  Yande? 

There's  knowledge  for  every  poor  creature 
That  thirsts  to  illumine  the  soul; 

'Tis  this  the  embodied  great  feature 
To  reach  the  enlightening  goal. 

The  builders  were  men  of  great  station, 
Achieving  and  embellishing  a  land, 

Adorning  the  might  of  a  nation 

Which  forever  and  ever  shall  stand. 

Already  its  fame's  unbounded, 

By  the  speeches  and  literature  of  those 

Who  have  passed  the  degrees  of  her  portals 
And  astonished  her  friends  and  her  foes. 

Come  all  and  drink  of  the  fountain 
\Vhich  develops  soul,  body  and  mind, 

And  try  like  Moses  the  mountain, 
And  see  what  jewel  you'll  find. 


l')C  INDIANA. 

JIM  ELMOKE'S  BEST. 

Jim  Elmore,  the  sweet  poet  of  "Riplry  lown-liip,  has 
given  us  the  following  seasonable  gem: 

In  the  spring  of  the  year, 

When  the  hlood  is  too  thick, 
There  is  nothing  so  rare 

As  the  sassafras  stick. 
It  cleans  up  the  liver, 

It  strengthens  the  heart, 
And  to  the  whole  system 

Xew  life  doth  impart. 

Sassafras,  oh,  sassafras! 
Thou  art  the  stuff  for  me! 
And  in  the  spring  I  love  to  sing, 
Sweetest  sassafras,  of  thee. 

When  the  Journal  last  week  received  a  poem  extoll 
ing  the  virtues  of  sassafras,  to  which  poem  was  affixed 
the  signature  of  James  B.  Elmore,  we  thought  that 
the  poet  was  nodding.  The  poem  failed  to  contain 
the  fire  and  the  sweet  rhythmical  flow  which  charac 
terizes  the  productions  of  the  genius  of  old  Bipley, 
still  it  was  published  for  the  sake  of  the  signature  it 
bore,  as,  indeed,  are  many  other  productions  we  wot 
of  in  the  leading  papers  and  magazines  of  the  land. 


DUDES   AND   SASSAFRAS 


We  are  glad  to  state  this  week  that  the  poem  bore  a 
forged  name.  Mr.  Elmore  didn't  write  it,  as  the  fol 
lowing  from  him  will  show: 

"Mr.  Editor  —  There  was  a  piece  of  stale  poetry  in 
your  most  excellent  paper  of  last  week  on  sassafras, 
which  was  attributed  to  James  B.  Elmore.  I  would 
.•*ay  it  is  no  child  of  mine.  It  is  an  illegitimate  off 
cast,  or  else  its  father  would  have  owned  it.  My 
poems  are  printed  over  my  signature.  The  following 
is  a  genuine  in  compliment  to  the  so-called  fake: 

DUDES  AND  SASSAFRAS. 

Some  people  feign  would  be  a  poet 
With  their  cheek  of  brazen  brass, 

As  they  fill  their  empty  stomachs 
With  the  juice  of  sassafras. 

They  are  dudes  from  in  the  city, 

With  a  pole  and  line  for  bass, 
As  they  stroll  by  sparkling  brooklets 

Hunting  roots  of  sassafras. 

Some  bring  their  paramour  and  flagons 

Eillod  with  corn  fermented  gas, 
As  they  walk  the  dells  and  valleys 

In  pursuit  of  sassafras, 


158  INDIANA. 

When  their  blood  is  dark  and  ruddy. 

And  their  skin  is  a  mottled  mass, 
They  take  a  small  decoction 

From  the  roots  of  sassafras. 

Some  mistake  the  characteristics 

Of  this  tree  with  houghs  like  tinted  grass, 

And  have  nsed  the  nanseons  elder, 
Which  removed  their  brains  in  mass. 

Xow  when  your  mind  is  wandering, 
And  your  meter  is  stale  in  cast, 

Don't  insinuate  on  bards  and  farmers 
But  just  take  your  sassafras. 


THE    rorXTRY    BOY.  15'.' 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY. 

'"THE  country  hoy  is  born  amidst  the  broad  fields 
A  and  lovely  forests,  and  is  monarch  of  all  he  sur 
veys,  lie  enjoys  all  the  pleasures  of  the  farm,  and 
learns  to  work  at  will,  which  gives  him  health, 
strength  and  a  good  constitution.  lie  looks  into  na 
ture  with  an  ever  wakeful  eye,  which  is  giving  culture 
to  his  mind  and  giving  him  an  education  greater  than 
the  dry  printed  matter  of  a  dozen  books.  He  is  the 
idol  of  the  household,  doing  errands  for  his  mothtr 
until  he  is  old  enough  to  drive  a  horse  and  use  n  plow; 
then  he  is  in  the  care  of  his  father.  But  he  never  for 
gets  the  kind,  gentle  words  of  a  fond,  loving  mother, 
lie  is  in  the  fields  every  day  with  the  men,  and  is 
being  skilled  in  the  arts  of  farming;  and,  growing  up 
to  manhood  with  his  father's  business,  his  keen  per 
ception  take  it  all  in  at  a  glance.  lie  is  inured  to 
toil,  and  is  not  afraid  to  work.  lie  learns  tin1  hard 
ships  and  privations  which  sometimes  befall  the  farm 
ers  when  the  season  is  not  favorable  for  a  crop. 

This  little  fellow  breathes  the  pure,  whole-ome  air, 
.-•Unrated  with  the  odor  of  a  thousand  blossoms,  and 
hi-  brings  the  cows  home  from  the  pastures,  which 


160  INDIANA, 

furnished  the  scene  for  M.  IT.  Krout's  poem.  "Little 
Brown  Hands": 
"They  drive  home  the  cows  from  the  pasture. 

Up  through  the  long,  shady  lane. 
Where  the  quail  whistles  loud  in  the  wheat  fields 

That  are  yellow  with  ripening  grain. 
They  toss  the  new  hay  in  the  meadow, 
They  gather  the  elder-blooms  white. 
They  find  where  the  dusky  grapes  purple 

In  the  soft-tinted  October  light. 
They  know  where  the  apples  hang  ripest 

And  are  sweeter  than  Italy's  wines, 
They  know  where  the  fruit  hangs  the  thickest 
On  the  long,  thorny  blackberry  vines." 

In  the  summer  time  these  boys  go  barefooted,  and 
sometimes  poorly  clothed;  and  they  chase  the  bril- 
liant-hued  butterfly  in  1m  flight  from  flower  to  flower, 
and  are  so  alert  as  to  bring  him  down  with  a  single 
swoop  of  their  hats.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  them  to 
ramble  in  the  woods  on  'days  when  not  at  work,  and 
see  the  pretty  birds  and  playful  squirrel  leap  from 
bough  to  bough.  They  gather  the  sweetest  flowers 
for  bouquets,  and  berries  for  to  eat.  They  go  a-fish- 
ing  down  to  the  little  brook  that  runs  through  the 
pasture,  and  catch  the  red-sided  minnows,  of  Avhich 
they  are  as  proud  as  if  they  had  found  a  gold  coin. 
How  proud  they  are  when  they  can  use  their  father's 
gun  and  go  hunting  all  by  themselves!  It  may  be 


THE    COUNTRY    I5OY.  161 


that  when  they  find  game  they  will  he  so  anxious  that 
they  will  forget  to  put  down  powder,  and  have  to  re 
turn  home  without  any  fun:  hut  they  have  to  learn, 
and  will  know  better  next  time.  You  must  not  forget 
that  these  boys  are  only  small  men,  upon  whose  shoul 
ders  the  great  ship  of  state  rests  for  her  future  exist 
ence:  and  they  must  not  be  kept  'too  close  at  home. 
They  must  be  allowed  to  go  to  town  and  see  the  cars 
and  shows,  and  all  the  amusements  possible,  for  it 
leaves  impressions  on  their  minds  which  the  cares  of 
a  lifetime  cannot  obliterate.  These  things  make  up 
the  garner  of  the  mind,  and  furnish  it  so  bountifully 
with  food,  which  portray  these  beautiful  lines: 

"Then  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took  the  boy  upon  her 

knee, 
Saying:     'Here  is  a  story  book  thy  father  has.  given 

to  thee.'  '' 

They  must  have  some  schooling,  so  they  can  apply 
themselves  better  to  their  task,  and  when  they  get  an 
opportunity  to  go  to  school,  T  assure  you  that  they 
will  improve  the  time.  They  seem  to  apply  them 
selves  better  to  their  books  than  the  city  youth.  \vho 
have  a  great  deal  better  opportunities,  as  they  have  so 
little  to  do,  and  have  so  much  longer  terms  of  school. 
But  they  should  bear  in  mind  that  there  is  no  gain 
without  irrcat  effort  on  their  part,  and  that  prosperity 
is  not  a  child  of  sloth.  It  may  be  that  they  neglect 

12 


162  INDIANA. 

their  studies  for  the  pleasures  of  the  city,  which  are 
very  enticing  to  the  young  and  demoralizing  in  effect. 

Abraham  Lincoln,  \vho  was  nicknamed  "The  Kail- 
Splitter,"  was  a  country  boy,  and  learned  to  read  by 
the  light  of  a  tallow  candle  while  his  mother  spun 
stocking  yarn  with  her  humming  wheel.  James  A. 
Garfield  was  another,  who  drove  a  horse  on  the  tow- 
path  for  a  canal  boat.  And  William  Henry  Harrison 
was  another,  who  was  dubbed  the  log  cabin  candidate. 
But  still  they  arose  to  fame,  and  serve  as  a  useful  ex 
ample  to  many  a  boy  to  encourage  him  in  his  effort?. 
But  these  are  only  a  few  of  the  many  instances 
I  might  cite  to  you  where  farmers'  boys  riave  arisen 
to  fame.  Xo  wonder  that  Robert  Burns  wrote: 
"Mam7  a  noble  heart  beats  beneath  a  ragged  vest.'' 

I  have  noticed  in  our  country  towns  that  fewer  of 
the  boys  rise  to  distinction  than  those  of  the  country. 
The  country  boy  rises  early  and  feeds  his  father's 
stock,  and  hurries  off  to  school  on  a  winter's  morning, 
with  his  cheeks  as  red  as  a  rose  by  passing  through  the 
chilly  blasts  of  winter.  Xo  wonder,  under  these  cir 
cumstance?,  and  with  such  a  struggle  to  brave  the 
storm  of  life,  they  may  become  great  and  useful  men. 
They  get  the  physical  as  well  as  the  mental  training, 
which  is  just  as  essential  for  their  future  happiness. 
Colleges  have  built  gymnasiums  for  their  students  to 
take  exercise,  and  have  groves  to  imitate  the  forests; 
but  thev  fall  far  short  of  these  natural  environments, 


THE    COUNTRY    BOY. 


Also,  the  college  boys  have  instituted  a  modern  game 
of  football,  which  borders  just  as  close  to  heathenism 
as  the  gladiatorial  shows  of  Greece  and  Rome  or  the 
arena  of  Mexico. 

It  is  true  that  a  farmer's  life  is  not  all  pleasure  and 
happiness,  but  it  affords  many  useful  lessons  that 
otherwise  they  would  not  get.  Country  life  keeps 
boys  away  from  the  city,  until  they  are  mature  in 
years,  and  then  they  arc  not  so  liable  to  learn  the 
many  vices,  and  slang  phrases,  which  the  city  belle 
and  dandy  delight  in  using  for  mere  pastime,  for  want 
of  something  better  for  the  mind  to  work  upon.  The 
mind  should  always  be  employed  on  something  whole 
some  or  useful,  for  it  is  never  at  rest,  and  if  not  cm- 
pi  overl  it  wanders  on  trivial  things;  and  in  the  r-.ouu- 
try  these  useful  tilings  are  always  at  hand,  varying 
from  the  most  beautiful  to  the  sublime.  You  will 
notice  that  the  Savior,  in  His  beautiful  parables  and 
metaphors,  always  used  these  natural  illustrations, 
mid  also  all  writers  and  poets,  in  their  sweetest  songs 
and  pithy  sarcasm,  drew  upon  the  most  remarkable 
scenes  of  real  life  as  a  basis  for  their  works. 

Country  life  instills  into  a  person  a  desire  for  free 
dom,  and  encouraged  the  Boston  boys  to  defy  General 
Gage  and  the  redcoats  when  breaking  their  ice;  and 
ibis  same  spirit  enthused  General  Andrew  Jackson  to 
decline  to  black  an  Knglish  officer's  boots,  for  which 
he  received  a  sword-cut  wound  that  lie  carried  to  his 


164 


grave.  It  was  this  same  spirit  and  ambition  which 
animated  Horatius  to  hold  the  bridge  over  the  Tiber, 
leading  to  Rome,  against  a  whole  army,  while  t\vo 
ir.en  cut  it  in  two,  and  he  then  leaped  into  the  river 
and  swam  to  shore.  And  it  was  this  same  love  of 
liberty  that  caused  the  people  of  Rome  to  crown 
Cincinnati!?  king  while  plowing  in  his  field  with  a 
yoke  of  oxen:  and  when  he  had  served  his  mission,  he 
resigned  his  kingship  and  returned  to  his  home — an 
heroic  example  for  the  world.  So  if  you  desire  a 
great  feat  to  be  done,  or  a  hardship  to  be  borne,  you 
wi1!  be  safe  in  leaving  it  to  a  country  boy. 

INTEIU'IUJAX  RAILWAY, 

Hiding  on  a  street  ear, 

Speeded  by  a  wire — 
Bless  me !  it  is  pleasant 

Riding  on  the  flyer. 

Passing  on  the  highway, 

By  the  farm  and  dell. 
Viewing  many  pretty  things, 

Scenes  I  love  so  well. 

Farmers,  get  you  ready, 

And  make  this  modern  change; 

.It  will  enliven  ev'ry  product 
With  which  it  is  in  range. 


THK    MODERN    WOODMAN.  1H5 

Transported  with  your  produce 

To  a  business  town, 
Plenty  in  your  pockets 

When  markets  quick  arc  found. 

1'iding  for  a  pittance — 

Bless  me !  it  is  fun. 
Grant  the  needed  franchise, 

And  let  the  flyer  come. 

Uural  transportation 

Makes  a  business  go ; 
If  you  don't  believe  it, 

Try,  and  then  you'll  kno\v. 

The  handy  mileage  station 

Accommodates  the  whole, 
And  quickens  all  the  pulses, 

And  animates  the  soul. 


THE  MODERN  WOODMAN. 

0  Woodman  !  protect  your  wife 
From  hunger  and  from  shame 

She  is  the  jewel  of  your  life, 
And  bears  your  only  name. 

Stand  by  her  while  you  live, 
Protect  her  when  alone: 

True  love  to  you  she'll  give, 
The  idol  of  vour  home. 


166 


Prepare  that,  when  you're  gone, 

Plenty  will  be  there. 
The  Woodman  is  toiling  on 

With  virtue  pure  and  rare. 

Let  not  the  children  cry 

And  disturb  a  mother's  breast ; 

Be  sure  that  when  you  die, 
Your  policy  gives  them  rest. 

Go  join  the  brotherhood 

While  you  are  hale  and  strong; 

There's  none  so  pure  and  good 
To  help  poor  souls  along. 

There's  plenty  now  in  store 
For  those  who  stand  in  need  ; 

Ours  is  the  shining  shore, 
For  friendship  is  our  creed. 

0  neighbor  !  sow  the  seed 

Of  woodcraft  throughout  the  land  ; 
The  union  is  not  for  greed, 

But  to  extend  a  helping  hand. 

Let  each  mild  zephyr  blow 
Laden  with  rich  perfume : 

You  by  this  incense  know 

That  friends  surround  your  tomb. 

June  8,  1000. 


WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG.  167 

WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG. 

When  I  was  young  and  cheeks  were  fair, 
I  had  a  rustic  woodland  air; 
I  wandered  o'er  the  shady  hills, 
Where  bloomed  the  pretty  daffodils — 
When  I  was  young. 

I  strolled  along  the  sparkling  brook. 
For  shining  pebbles  I  would  look ; 
And  many  a  pretty,  shining  shell 
I  found  and  gave  to  little  Nell — 
When  I  was  young. 

1  sought  the  pleasant  woodbine  shade, 
And  played  "  keep  store  *'  with  many  a  maid. 
This  morn  of  life  so  soon  was  passed, 
It  was  so  sweet  it  could  not  last- 
When  I  was  young. 

In  corded  grapevines  I  would  swing; 
The  woods  with  music  loud  did  ring; 
The  very  earth  was  all  in  tune; 
'Twas  just  the  fullness  of  life's  noon — 
When  I  was  young. 

I  went  to  school,  a  little  man  ; 
To  play  and  romp  was  all  my  plan  ; 
I  threw  sweet  kisses  'cross  the  room 
At  youth  and  beauty,  bud  and  bloom- 
When  I  was  vounir. 


168  INDIANA. 

But  I  have  passed  through  all  my  teens, 
Yet  youthful  pleasures  haunt  my  dreams. 
I'm  standing  by  a  purling  brook. 
In  its  waters  I  stood  to  look — 
When  I  was  young. 

My  mind  threw  off  its  load  of  care, 
A  boy  again  I'm  standing  there; 
The  moon  expelled  the  shades  of  night. 
The  shoals  all  gleamed  with  silver  liirht 
When  I  was  young. 

My  hair  is  streaked  with  shades  of  gray. 
No  youthful  pleasures  now  for  aye. 
I  long  for  days  that  ne'er  can  come, 
That  once  were  full  of  joy  and  fun — 
When  I  was  young. 

The  wings  of  morning  passed  me  by, 
And  left  me  there  alone  to  sigh 
And  think  how  oft  my  feet  had  trod 
Along  that  brook  with  fishing  rod — 
When  I  was  young. 


TO    A    BIRD.  Ki'.t 

TO  A  BIRD. 

0,  sing  me  a  song, 

Sweet  bird  of  my  choice, 
And  fill  my  dear  <oul 

With  the  notes  of  thy  voice. 

Sitting  high  on  a  bough 

As  it's  tilting  away. 
Let  your  sweet  melody 

Be  cheery  to-day. 

(Jay  and  light-hearted, 

Dear  friend  of  the  wood, 
Your  songs  so  impress  me 

With  the  lives  of  the  good, 

And  bring  to  my  memory 

The  bright  things  of  our  May, 

Which  drive  away  sorrow 
As  the  sun  lights  the  day. 

Yet  brighter  ami  brighter 

Are  our  lives  at  our  home 
As  the  rays  of  pure  sunshine 

In  harmony  are  known. 

Like  the  song  of  the  singer, 

Our  heart  must  be  pure, 
So  loving,  so  childlike, 

If  we  would  endure. 


170 


Inspired  is  the  singer 

Which  you  so  much  love, 
And  the  voice  of  the  angels 

Xow  answers  above. 

OUR  FATHER. 

Our  father  sat  in  his  easy-chair 

And  whiled  the  time  away ; 
His  hair  was  white  as  the  snow  to  the  sight, 

An  emblem  of  a  better  day. 

His  youth  was  like  the  flowers  that  gro\v 

Along  the  purling  brook ; 
But  he's  traveled  sublime  the  sand?  of  time. 

And  taken  a  different  look. 

His  form  was  bent  by  the  toil  of  years 

For  the  ones  he  loved  the  best ; 
It  soothed  his  care  with  blessings  rare 

As  a  treasure  he  saved  for  rest. 

His  children  he  loved,  and  guided  each  day. 

And  taught  them  lessons  of  good ; 
But  they  have  flown  to  homes  of  their  own, 

Like  the  nestlings  of  the  wood. 

He  often  mused  o'er  things  gone  by, 

When  his  wife  was  a  bright-blooming  flower, 

And  the  children  would  cry  for  a  sweet  lullaby 
From  a  voice  like  a  falling  star. 


WHEN   THE   PAWPAWS   ARK   RIPE.  171 

But  she  is  gone  to  realms  unknown, 

Where  they  know  not  of  sorrow  nor  woe, 

To  rest  in  peace  with  the  queens  of  the  East, 
Where  never  mortal  can  go. 

Our  father — poor  soul ! — with  tottering  step, 

Still  yearns  for  the  river  of  life, 
And  is  wandering  at  will  up  Zion's  hill 

To  meet  his  loved  children  and  wife. 

WHEN  THE  PAWPAWS  AKE  RIPE. 

When  the  autumn  days  are  coming, 

And  it's  getting  cool  o'  nights, 
Then  I  love  to  take  a  ramble, 

When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

When  the  leaves  are  turning  golden, 
Streaked  in  autumn's  purest  dight, 

Then  I  love  to  shake  the  bushes, 
When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

Then  the  city  chaps  are  coming. 

With  their  lasses  tripping  light. 
And  they  shake  the  clumps  of  bushes, 

When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

Then  the  'possum  is  getting  sassy, 

And  his  coat  is  not  so  white ; 
And  the  colored  coons  are  hunting, 

When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 


172 


Then  the  'possums  climb  the  bushes, 
And  they  curl  their  tails  aright 

liound  a  limb  that  is  richly  laden, 
When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

Glorious  scenes  of  loving  childhood, 
When  our  life  is  pure  and  bright, 

And  we  ramble  in  the  forest 
When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

These  are  pleasures  worth  recalling 
To  the  aged  ones  dim  of  sight. 

For  they  hear  the  fun  and  laughter 
When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

Like  the  papyrus  reed  of  Egypt, 
These  trees  are  passing  out  of  sight, 

And  there'll  he  no  place  for  hunting 
When  the  pawpaws  are  ripe. 

September  16,  1000. 


STICK  TO  YOUR  CALLTXtt. 

T  have  wandered  to  the  town 
Where  old  Midas  hung  around 

Long  ago ; 

And  the  counters,  filled,  overflowing. 
Seemed  like  fortunes  fast  were  growing 

By  such  show. 


STICK   TO   YOUR   GAINING.  173 

Ev'rything  was  neatly  shining. 
While  the  merchant  was  repining 

At  his  trade ; 

Newer  things  were  always  coming, 
And  the  spindles  sweet  were  humming 

In  the  shade. 

But  poor  labor  it  was  wanting — 
Idle  show  is  always  vaunting 

In  its  way. 

Don't  believe  in  vain  appearing. 
Nor  sweet  stories  you  are  hearing 

Ev'ry  day. ' 

Stick  to  your  humble  calling, 
It  just  needs  some  overhauling 

For  the  time ; 

Don't  believe  in  this  or  that, 
Nor  the  fame  of  some  grown  fat 

In  Klondike  clime. 

All  will  surely  coino  out  well, 
As  we've  heard  the  poet  tell 

To  a  friend; 

Stick  the  closer  to  your  trade. 
Then  your  fortune  will  be  made 

In  the  end. 

Never  let  bold  specters  rise 
To  allure  you  otherwise 
Than  the  right ; 


174 


They  are  like  some  \vanton  boy- 
Playing  idly  with  their  toys 
To  the  sight. 

Rolling  stones  ne'er  gather  moss: 
Like  the  breakers,  they  are  tossed 

O'er  the  lea. 

But  if  yon  would  make  a  starv. 
From  each  day  just  set  apart, 

Small  it  be. 

Floating  hubbies  soon  will  burst, 
And  the  surface  look  the  worse 

For  their  life. 
Lit  I  le  treasure  can  exist 
By  our  taking  too  much  risk 

In  such  st ri fe. 

The  illusive  FJdorado 

May  be  swept,  like  a  tornado. 

Far  away : 

But  by  holding  to  each  penny. 
Yon  will  have  bright  dollar^  many 

For  a  stay. 

February  26,  1900. 

MY  SWEETHEAK T  OF  LOXG  AGO. 

T  once  had  a  sweetheart  — 

In  my  youth  of  long  ago: 
"Twas  in  my  school  days  that  T  met  her. 

And  true  love  w&-  wont  to  flow. 


MY   SWEETHEART   OF   LONG   AGO.  175 

My  heart  was  young  and  tender, 

And  she  was  blithe  and  gay, 
And  I  always  sought  her  company 

When  the  time  would  come  to  play. 

We  would  hunt  the  pretty  mosses 

And  the  flowers  of  brilliant  hue 
Which  were  emblems  of  affection 

In  the  hearts  of  lovers  true. 
We  would  write  our  little  verses, 

Which  we  passed  across  the  room  ; 
They  were  sweeter  than  the  daisies 

Or  the  lilies  full  in  bloom. 

Ev'ry  word  was  but  a  picture, 

Like  a  crystal  in  the  snow — 
From  the  heart  a  true  inscription, 

As  young  lovers'  hearts  o'erflow. 
And  the  kisses  that  I  threw  her 

She  would  answer  just  the  same; 
From  her  lips  as  pure  as  nectar, 

Like  sweet  honeydew  they  came. 

We  played  many  a  game  of  ball. 

Which  we  called  "  three-cornered  cat ;  " 
And  she  always  did  the  striking. 

For  I  would  not  take  the  bat. 
She  would  laugh  and  shake  her  tresses 

As  she  shyly  glanced  at  me. 
With  such  pretty,  roselike  dimples 

On  her  cheeks  so  fair  to  see. 


176 


We  would  often  "drop  the  kerchief." 

1  ran  the  circuit  round  and  round 
Until  1  came  behind  my  May, 

Then  I  dropped  the  kerchief  down. 
She  had  many  a  graceful  charm, 

With  brow  so  fair  and  eyes  so  mild : 
Her  life  was  like  a  rippling  stream 

On  which  Dame  Xature  looked  and  smiled. 

We  would  run  the  "  circling  mill," 

And  tap  the  chosen  on  the  back ; 
Then  would  come  a  race  competing, 

llmming  round  the  miller's  track. 
If  we  caught  the  tagging  miller, 

He  must  still  keep  in  the  race 
Until  he  beat  the  one  in  running 

And  got  within  the  vacant  place. 

Wood  tag."  too,  was  a  favorite  game 

With  the  gayer  boys  and  girls. 
1  would  always  watch  my  May, 

With  her  waving,  glossy  curls: 
If  she  stepped  upon  the  ground. 

She  would  get  a  gentle  tap: 
Then  she  must  become  the  catcher 

Until  she  caught  a  heedless  chap. 

:  Black  man  ''  then  was  on  the  schedule 

As  we  spent  our  time  in  play: 
We  would  run  and  catch  each  other 
And  would  while  the  time  awav. 


MV  SWKKTHEART   (>!•'   J.oNC.    AGO. 


Kv'rv  day  was  like  a  springtime. 

Full  of  maiiv  buds  and  flowers — 
Merrymaking',  full  of  sunshine, 

Which  adorned  youth's  happy  hours. 

Often  we  would  have  a  '•spelling/' 

And  invite  our  neighboring  schools; 
\\'e  would  try  our  best  to  beat  them, 

Xo  matter  what  would  be  the  rules. 
\Ve  chose1  these  times  to  get  together 

And  to  meet  the  charming  lass; 
You  could  hear  the  gayest  laughter 

As  the  bells  and  cutters  passed. 

\Ye  would  hang  around  the  doorway 

To  see  the  boys  hunt  out  a  mate. 
Some  would  hang  on  like  a  tether. 

And  some  would  get  a  hearty  shake; 
Then  the  hoys  would  laugh  and  titter 

As  the  girls  would  shy  away. 
Those  with  grit  would  try  another. 

For  their  hearts  were  blithe  and  gay 

Often  we  would  have  a  party 

In  the  neighborhood  around; 
Ev'ry  youngster  in  the  country 

Would  be  there  so  hale  and  sound. 
We  would  choose  our  favorite  lasses 

For  the  tune  of  "  weevly  wheat:  " 
Up  and  down  the  floor  we  tripped  it, 

Planting  kisses  on  their  cheeks. 


178  INDIANA. 

The  "  miller  boy  "  was  a  favorite  pastime, 

With  a  pawn  above  your  head; 
The  owner  must  some  way  redeem  it 

With  three  yards  of  tape  instead. 
Every  yard  must  have  a  marking 

With  a  stamp  of  loving  bliss. 
Nothing  could  be  half  so  jolly 

As  we  gave  the  meting  kiss. 

We  sometimes  made  a  "  double  shovel/' 

Or  a  flaring  "  sugar  bowl ;  " 
It  was  a  scene  so  fit  for  laughing 

As  the  parties  took  their  toll ; 
Everything  went  off  as  lovely 

As  though  a  rabbit's  foot  of  charm 
Played  the  part  of  merrymaking 

With  the  youngsters  from  the  farm. 

"  Post  oifice,"  too,  seemed  just  in  order, 

With  two  watchdogs  at  the  door ; 
If  the  wrong  one  was  approaching. 

Then  the  sentinels  barked  the  more. 
But  some  mail  is  in  the  office. 

And  some  one  must  go  and  see ; 
If  the  right  one  is  approaching. 

The  vicious  curs  will  silent  be. 

Hut  there  came  a  day  of  sorrow, 
When  the  term  of  school  must  close, 

And  we  little,  youthful  lovers 
Felt  the  pangs  of  parting  woes ; 


JENNIE'S  RIDE.  179 


And  erelong  there  came  another 
From  a  village  by  the  sea, 

And  I  never  could  recover 
The  old  love  May  had  for  me. 

He  was  tall  and  very  handsome, 

And  his  heart  was  full  of  glee; 
And  he  stole  the  heart  of  May, 

Which  I  thought  she  had  for  me. 
But  I'll  always  long  to  see  her, 

For  the  dart  of  Cupid  shines 
While  a  spark  of  life  is  glowing 

And  the  loving  heart  repines. 


JENNIE'S  EIDE. 

Little  Jennie  rode  a  "  hike  " 
Like  an  arrow  down  the  pike. 
She  is  blithe  as  any  roe, 
Cheeks  as  sweet  as  billet-doux. 

Many  a  lad  in  passing  by 
Cast  a  look  of  longing  eye, 
And  vied  with  envy  as  they  passed 
The  charming  beauty  of  the  lass. 

Now  one  joins  the  maiden's  side 
For  a  pleasant  talk  and  ride  : 
They  are  moving  on — first  slow, 
Then  faster,  faster  still  they  go. 


The  speed  is  turning  to  a  chase. 
And  many  a  rider  joins  the  race 
Jennie's  beauty,  tried  and  true, 
Is  the  idol  of  .he  crew. 


JENNIE'S    RIDE. 


She  is  gaining  on  the  crowd, 
Shout  on  shout  is  heard  aloud, 
And  the  champion  by  her  side 
Is  behind  about  a  stride. 


"THE   BARD   OF   AI.AMO."  181 

But  he  tries  and  tries  in  vain ; 
She  will  beat  him,  just  the  same. 
Then  she  glanced  back  at  her  dm  in — 
Half  in  earnest,  half  in  fun. 

Now  they  reach  a  country  town. 
Telephones  had  brought  it  down  ; 
All  are  out  in  mass  to  see. 
.Jennie  laughed  so  heartily. 

She  had  beat  the  bandy  legs, 
And  carried  safe  a  crate  of  eggs 
From  her  little  cottage  home, 
Where  in  pleasure  she  did  roam. 

Xow,  you  boys  with  head  in  whirl 
Must  never  race  a  country  girl ; 
For  the  vigor  they  possess 
Speeds  a  "hike  "  like  the  express. 

M;uvh  16,  1900. 

"TI-IR  BARD  OF  ALAMO." 

Illustrious  living,  mighty  dead. 

Famous  in  war  or  peace, 
Xow  cover  your  diminished  head 

And  let  your  paeons  cease. 
Your  laurels  bring,  your  garlands  weave, 

And  fitting  praise  bestow 
Upon  our  modern  prince  of  verse, 
"  The  Bard  of  Alamo." 


]S2  INDIANA. 

Ye  men  of  wisdom  and  renown, 

In  distant  lands  or  near, 
Who  wield  the  scepter,  wear  the  crown, 

And  rule  by  love  or  fear ; 
Give  praise  to  him  whose  lines  in  clear 

Exquisite  cadence  flow 
As  fresh  and  crisp  as  mountain  air, 
"The  Bard  of  Alamo." 

Ye  glittering  hosts  of  classic  stars 

That  deck  the  sky  of  fame, 
Welcome  to  your  proud  galaxy 

One  who  deserves  the  name ; 
And  e'en  you  lesser  lights,  a  due 

Appreciation  show 
Of  him  who  wears  the  poet's  crown. 
"  The  Bard  of  Alamo." 

BY  A  FHIEXD. 


THE  LADIES'  ATHENIAX  CLUB. 

All  hail  the  ladies  of  Crawfordsville 

For  the  nohle  work  they  do  ! 
They  seem  to  have  the  force  of  will 

For  the  club  and  belles-lettres,  too. 
They  teach  the  lessons  as  they  ought. 

As  mothers  fraught  with  care, 
And  bring  from  chaos  and  from  naught 

Good  blessings  ev'rywhere. 


THE    LADIES'    ATHENIAN   CLUB.  188 

Athens  was  thought  to  be  the  place 

Of  all  learning  and  of  power ; 
But  here  we  find  it  in  the  chase 

And  in  the  gilded  tower. 
Give  your  noble  work  renown, 

As  women  think  they  should, 
And  seek  for  knowledge  in  the  town 

And  in  the  sylvan  wood. 

Teach  thy  lessons  by  precept 

And  reading  precioiis  books ; 
Give  the  mind  time  to  reflect 

And  to  permeate  the  nooks. 
Let  your  Avork  go  on  and  on, 

And  bring  more  to  the  fold ; 
Never  let  a  chance  be  gone 

But  shines  like  a  gem  of  gold. 

Then  you're  building  to  the  sky 

For  women  and  mortal  men  ; 
Seek  to  win  the  glorious  prize 

And  take  along  your  ken  ; 
Learn  to  know  that  in  our  noon 

Is  the  time  to  work  and  build, 
Before  this  life  or  setting  sun 

Sinks  'neath  the  western  hills. 

January  IS,  1900. 

(Written  for  the  Ladies'  Athenian  Club,  of  Crawfordsville.) 


1S4  INDIANA. 


DE  OL'  PLANTATION. 

I  long  fur  de  ol'  plantation, 
Wid  de  inornin's  cheery  song, 

When  our  massa  fed  and  cloved  us, 
And  de  mule  jest  poked  along ; 

And  we  j'ined  de  birds  in  de  chorus, 
As  we  went  our  labors  through, 

Wid  de  warbles  ob  de  mornin : 

"  T-la-e,  t-la-e,  t-la-e-hoo  !  " 

Den  we  picked  de  downy  cotton 
Wid  de  buxom  cullud  chile, 

An'  ol'  massa  kept  a-trottin', 
But  we's  sparkin'  all  de  while ; 

Air  we  thought  about  de  cabin 
Whar  we  used  to  lub  an'  coo, 

An'  we  played  an'  sung  ob  eb'nin's : 

"T-la-e,  t-la-e,  t-la-e-hoo!" 

0,  de  blackbirds  sing  no  sweeter 
Dan  de  happy  cullud  coon  ; 

Dah  can  be  no  better  meter 
Dan  de  cotton-pickin'  tune. 

It  brings  back  de  ol'  plantation, 
Wid  its  scenes  so  clear  to  view; 

I  can  hear  de  echoes  ringin' : 

"  T-la-e.  t-la-e.  t-la-e-hoo  !  " 


DK    OI,'    PLANTATION. 


So  1  'joyed  myself  in  pleasure 
'Til  of  massa  sol'  my  Cloe, 

Den  I  got  my  traps  togedder 
An'  I  started  for  Canido; 

But  I  nebber  can  fergit  her, 
An'  de  pickaninnies,  too, 

An'  de  mornin'  dat  I  lef'  her  — 

"  T-la-e,  t-la-e,  t-la-e-hoo  !  " 

Now  my  heart  is  sad  an'  tender 
Fur  de  one  I's  lef  behin', 

But  E  a  Hers  will  remember 
Dat  good  ol'  snnny  clime; 

But  now  I's  sad  an'  lonely. 

An'  my  heart  is  throbbin'.  too, 

For  dear  Cloe  to  jine  de  chorus  : 

"'  T-la-e,  t-la-e,  t-la-e-hoo  !  " 

Xow  I's  gwine  to  Mississippi. 

An'  hunt  ol'  Dixie  through 
For  my  darlin'  Cloe  an'  Kittle, 

An'  I  will  my  lub  renew. 
Her  lips  were  like  molasses, 

An'  my  arms  aroun'  her  flew, 
An'  I  sung  as  noble  Croasus: 
"  T-la-e,  t-la-e,  t-la-e-hoo  !  " 


180  INDIANA. 


L  AWT  ON '8  BRIGADE. 

Brave  Lawton  strove  to  do  his  best 

In  peace  or  deadly  war, 
And  by  his  men  was  ever  blessed — 

A  coward  he  did  abhor. 
The  cannon  boomed  about  his  tent, 

The  shrapnels  whistled,  too, 
And  through  his  lines  they  made  a  rent, 

But  brave  were  the  boys  in  blue. 

The  bugle  call  was  sounded  then, 

The  copse  was  just  behind ; 
Lawton  called  unto  his  men : 
"Fall  inline!  Fall  inline!" 
They  soon  obeyed  the  General's  call 

And  plied  the  shining  steel ; 
A  shower  of  American  minie  balls 

Made  the  Philippines  reel. 

"  Charge  !  Forward  !  Give  them  the  bayonet !  " 

Their  hearts  beat  quick  and  fast. 
Click,  click,  click  ! — the  dagger  is  set, 

Then  forward  they  go  in  mass. 
"  Steady,  boys ;  steady,  steady,  steady ; 

Carry  your  solid  ranks." 
They  extend  their  lines;  then  all  is  ready; 
No  chance  to  turn  their  flanks. 


LAWTON'S  BRIGADE.  187 

They  meet  in  deadly  combat  there, 

And  fight  right  hand  to  hand ; 
Some  are  pierced  through  with  the  spear, 

And  some  bleed  on  the  sands. 
They  waver  then  and  break  away, 

Our  heroes  follow  aft'; 
We  win  again  in  mortal  fray, 

The  mongrels  sore  we  pressed. 

"  On,  brave  boys,  on — on  ! 

We  mean  to  do  or  die. 
A  noble  vict'ry  you  have  won 

Beneath  this  tropic  sky.'' 
A  private  cautioned  brave  Lawton  then 

Sharpshooters  were  so  near ; 
But  in  the  jungle  or  the  glen, 

He  laughed  at  thought  of  fear. 

He  turned  around  to  give  commands, 

Which  were  his  last  behest ; 
The  noble  soul  threw  up  his  hands, 

For  a  ball  had  pierced  his  breast. 
He  fell  back  in  a  comrade's  arms. 

For  they  had  loved  him  best 
Who  saw  him  fight,  and  knew  his  charms 

Surpassed  quite  all  the  rest. 

His  lasi  words  were :  "  Push  on  the  cause  ! 

Think  of  your  native  land, 
Which  has  such  pure  and  wholesome  laws. 

And  spurns  th'  oppressor's  hand. 


188  INDIANA. 

Go  tell  my  wife  that  here  I  die 
The  death  of  a  soldier  brave.; 

And  tell  her  not  to  mourn  and  cry — 
We'll  meet  beyond  the  grave." 

That  night  a  woman's  heart  beat  fast 

And  throbbed  at  her  aching  breast, 
As  she  offered  up  a  last  sad  prayer 

For  the  one  she  loved  the  best : 
"  0  God,  wilt  thou  take  my  husband  home 

To  reign  with  the  saints  above, 
And  crown  him  heir  around  the  throne, 

Where  Christ  is  light  and  love?  " 

That  mother  now  is  left  alone, 

An  ideal  nation's  love ; 
A  light  has  all  around  her  shone, 

Which  does  our  blessings  prove. 
She  ne'er  can  want,  for  gen'rous  hands 

Are  ready  to  bestow 
All  the  gifts  of  a  Christian  land 

On  one  who  met  the  foe. 

January  30,  1900. 

THE  POET. 

The  poet  lives  in  thoughts  above 

The  blue  ethereal  sky ; 
His  thoughts  are  close  akin  to  love 

When  Xature  meets  his  eye. 


THE   POET.  189 

He  fancies  many  a  thing  of  art 

Beyond  the  sculptor's  hand  : 
Grand  and  noble,  pure  at  heart, 

The  greatest  gift  to  man. 

Things  which  please  are  at  his  will, 

And  colored  highly,  too ; 
Tic  must  portray  them  mirrored  still 

To  the  patient  reader's  view. 

He  goes  beyond  the  av'rage  soul. 

Where  saints  immortal  reign. 
And  hears  sweet  songs  of  music  roll, 

And  joins  the  sweet  refrain. 

lie  peers  in  space  just  as  it  were 

A  fairy's  golden  lane, 
Traveled  by  some  sea  nymphs  rare, 

And  gives  to  each  a  name. 

Inspired  are  they  who  sing  sweet  lays 

By  the  great  invisible  choir. 
Who  write  and  sing  in  holy  praise 

To  the  echoes  of  David's*  lyre. 

Born  they  are  with  songs  of  cheer 

In  words  of  sweetest  rhythm, 
Breathing  melodies  to  the  ear 

So  near  akin  to  heaven. 

February  8,  1900. 

*  David  is  the  oldest  poet  known. 


190  INDIANA. 

A  SONNET. 

The  mill  of  time  grinds  slowly, 
Yet  it  grinds  both  great  and  small. 
From  the  pressure  of  the  fall, 
Where  the  rushing  waters  flow, 
Onward,  onward,  it  will  go 
To  the  deep,  unfathomed  sea. 
Grinding,  grinding  it  will  he 
Where  the  pearl  and  rubies  glow ; 
Yet  there  must  come  time  to  rest. 
When  the  Master  grinds  the  grist 
And  the  flour  is  made  just  so, 
In  the  good  we  find  the  hest — 
Not  a  mixed  or  speckled  list, 
Like  the  mill  that  grinds  below. 

January  30,  1900. 


OUR  BABY. 

Little  baby  in  the  crib, 
Playing  nicely  with  his  bib. 
He  is  pretty,  I  declare. 
With  such  flowing  curly  hair; 
Just  the  image  of  his  ma. 
Blue  eyes  shining  like  his  pa ; 
He  will  coo  a  little  song, 
Happy  elfin  all  day  long. 


OUR   BABY.  191 

0,  the  pretty  dimpled  cheeks ! 
Mamma  kiss  'em  'cause  they're  sweet. 
Lips  like  ruby — glowing,  too — 
Just  as  sweet  as  honeydew ; 
Light  is  beaming  from  his  eyes, 
Shine  like  sparkles  in  the  sky — 
A  little  cherub  from  above, 
Purest  tie  of  family  love. 

Look  up,  baby,  let  me  see 
Our  sweet  darling  full  of  glee, 
Playing  in  his  willow  cot, 
Sweetest  little  forget-me-not. 
Like  a  rose  we  cherish  him, 
Tap  him  lightly  on  the  chin, 
Then  he  will  look  up  and  coo — 
Brighter  days  we  never  knew. 

Play  on,  baby ;  let  us  see ; 
You're  as  pure  as  angels  be. 
Jabbering  as  he  tries  to  talk, 
Feet  a-longing  for  to  walk. 
Stand  up,  darling ;  do  not  fear ; 
Take  a  step  for  mamma,  dear. 
But  he  topples  and  will  fall : 
First  the  baby  learns  to  crawl. 

Guy  or  Clarence  is  his  name : 
Angels  brought  him  as  they  came 
From  the  dotted  starry  sky 
For  his  mamma's  longing  eye. 


192 


He  will  fondle  on  her  breast, 
With  her  arm  about  him  pressed. 
Never  can  a  sunbeam  fall, 
But  it  shines  a  light  for  all. 

February  12,  1900. 

LIFE. 

Life  is  like  a  bubbling  spring 

Flowing  onward  as  a  brook, 
With  myriad  voices  echoing 

Along  its  course  from  ev'ry  nook ; 
Yet  smoothly  flow  the  waters  by 

Where  grasses  grow  and  gently  wave, 
The  wind  blows  calmly  with  a  sigh 

Where  fishes  bask  and  children  lave. 

Beautiful  scenes  lie  along  the  stream 

As  you  travel  down  the  living  fount, 
A  shining  light  in  the  distance  gleams 

As  the  purling  waters  are  tossed  about. 
Now  'tis  running  eddy-smooth. 

Anon  'tis  dashing  onward  down, 
And,  chafing  in  its  narrow  groove. 

A  voice  is  heard  of  murm'ring  sound. 

So  it  is  with  the  living  soul 
Moving  onward  o'er  the  brake, 

Striving,  yearning  to  reach  the  goal. 
Like  the  river  to  the  lake, 


LIFE.  193 

It  must  pass  some  stony  place, 

Where  breakers  heave  and  billows  toss ; 

So  near  akin  to  the  human  race, 
Xo  life  endures  without  some  loss. 

Dewdrops  sparkle  in  the  sun, 

A  gleam  of  light  shines  in  the  deep, 

Xo  time  to  rest  till  life  is  run 

And  it  has  gone  where  sages  sleep. 

So  the  river  runs  its  way 
Onward,  onward  to  the  sea; 

Xever  can  it  stop  and  say: 

"  I'm  content,  so  let  me  be/' 

Let  us  do  our  might  to-day, 

Time  well  spent  is  never  lost ; 
Light  of  heart  and  always  gay 

Will  save  the  ship  where  breakers  toss. 
Stand  at  the  helm  and  watch  the  fate 

Of  those  who  never  look  for  flaws, 
And  keep  in  view  the  Beautiful  Gate, 

Observing  pure  Nature's  laws. 

So  runs  the  stream  of  life  alway 

To  reach  the  mystic  realm  above, 
Still  achieving,  still  we  may, 

Where  hearts  are  full  of  perfect  love. 
Xever  let  vague  phantoms  rise 

To  mar  the  ties  of  friendship  true ; 
But  wing  thy  way  beyond  the  skies, 

Where  Christ  i  *  glory  beckons  you. 

February  24,  1900. 


194  INDIANA. 

POETS  ARE  BOKN,  NOT  MADE. 

Worry  we  may,  if  we  wish, 
At  the  favoritism  displayed; 

No  use  to  kick  'gainst  the  pricks, 
For  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

The  Muses,  so  lavish  with  favors, 

With  garlands  and  crowns  have  arrayed 

The  children  of  favored  Montgomery, 
For  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

The  place  of  our  birth  condemns  us, 
The  gods  would  lend  us  no  aid ; 

Parnassus  slopes  up  from  Montgomery, 
And  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

We  reverence  do  to  "  Old  Wabash," 
We  would  walk  in  her  classical  shade  ; 

But  she  is  unable  to  help  us, 
For  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

We've  tried  it  again  and  again, 
For  inspiration  we've  prayed; 

But  failure  our  portion  forever, 
For  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

0,  happy,  happy  Montgomery ! 

Till  our  debt  to  Nature  be  paid 
We  never  shall  cease  to  regret 

That  poets  are  born,  not  made. 


THE   BUGGY.  195 


Write  it  in  letters  of  fire, 

In  letters  that  never  can  fade — 

Yes,  letters  of  fire  will  answer — 
That  poets  are  born,  not  made. 

THE  BUGGY. 

If  you  desire  a  buggy 

To  ride  and  give  you  rest, 

You  should  buy  an  "A"  grade; 
It  certainly  is  the  best. 

It  is  just  a  dandy, 

If  you  desire  to  call 
And  escort  your  best  girl 

To  a  country  ball. 

You  have  nothing  for  to  fear, 
It  is  so  good  and  strong : 

It  is  on  a  perfect  gear, 
You  swiftly  glide  along. 

The  wheels  are  shining,  glist'ning, 
Humming  as  they  run  : 

The  boys  are  all  a-hustling. 
Want  to  buy  them  one. 

Then  they  are  contented, 

Happy,  it  does  seem  ; 
Plenty  of  caresses 

Just  belli nd  the  screen. 


196  INDIANA. 

"  BEX  HUR  "  IX  DRAMA. 

James  B.  Elmore,  the  poet  of  tlie  brakes  and  braes 
of  bonnie  Ripley,  was  in  to\vn  the  other  day,,  and  left 
a  few  verses  at  the  Journal  office.  "  1  offer  these  as 
a  tribute  to  Lew.  Wallace/''  said  he,  "  as  I  want  to 
encourage  cordiality  and  fellowship  among  the  lit 
erati  of  this  part  of  the  country.  There  is  no  reason 
why  we  should  not  live  together  as  brothers  and  kin 
dred  spirits,  as  our  tastes  and  aspirations  and  work 
are  along  the  same  lines.  I  do  not  know  the  Genera! 
very  well  yet;  but  as  soon  as  I  get  my  corn  under 
cover  and  poison  a  few  pesky  ground  hogs  that  are 
raising  hob  out  on  the  farm,  I  am  coming  in  and 
establish  the  entente  cordtaJc.  I  want  to  give  the 
General  all  the  encouragement  I  can,  and  I  wrote 
these  pleasant  lines  out  to  boost  '  Ben  Hur '  on  the 
stage  and  to  let  folks  know  that  there  is  no  meanness 
or  jealousy  among  literary  men  such  as  is  found 
among  other  professions."  The  poem  goes  like  this: 

"  Halloo,  Benjamin  Hur !     Where  goest  thou  ?  '' 
"  Like  a  divorced  wife,  to  the  stage  just  now." 
''  What  is  to  be  done,  that  you  are  so  arrayed  ?  " 
"  The  show  has  just  begun  in  dress  parade. 

You  know  that  in  the  arena  I  fame  have  won, 
So  on  the  stage  the  race  I'll  run ; 
Bring  on  the  orchestra  and  start  the  play, 
And  behold  my  steeds  so  fleet  and  gay." 


"BEN  HUR  "  IN  UKAMA. 


197 


Grasp  those  lines,  old  hero,  sir, 
And  show  us  the  mettle  of  Benjamin  Hur. 
Melchisedec  of  old  had  no  more  praise, 
With  no  beginning  of  time  nor  end  of  davs. 


THE    RACE    OF    BEN    HUR. 


Behold  the  chariot  wreathed  in  gold, 
And  the  clashing  of  armor  as  of  old; 
The  gayest  steeds  are  hitched  to  the  pole, 
And  quick  to  the  contest  the  race  to  unfold. 

Now  in  the  arena  Benjamin  great  laurels  has  won. 
The  wreath  of  honor  to  him  was  flung ; 
And  many  were  they  who  tried  to  compete 
With  the  chieftain  in  this  most  wonderful  feat. 


198  INDIANA. 

Hurrah,  humi!)  !  They  go,  and  Benjamin  is  forcing 

ahead ; 
Cheer  after  cheer  was  echoed  with  fear  as  faster  and 

faster  they  sped — 

The  most  beautiful  scene  that  one  could  behold. 
And  the  race  of  Ben  Tlur  will  ever  be  told. 

The  horses  are  running  with  nostrils  spread  wide — 

0  say,  isn't  it  a  beautiful  glide  ? 

There  goes  the  hero,  with  streamers  of  red, 

The  length  of  his  chariot  in  distance  ahead. 

Waneda,  his  darling,  is  waving  a  sign 
As  the  hero  is  passing  the  three-quarter  line ; 
But  Messala — poor  fellow  !—  is  lying  aground. 
For    Bennie    has    hubbed    him    and    turned    him 
around. 

He  is  speeding  ahead  and  cannot  look  back. 
Wild  echoes  are  ringing  in  the  wake  of  his  track, 
And  yet  he  is  nudging  the  steeds  all  the  time 
Until  he  has  reached  the  end  of  the  line. 

No  rag-time  race  will  he  ever  run, 

For  now  is  the  time  his  laurels  are  won ; 

And  many  bouquets  are  tossed  to  the  sage, 

And,  kneeling,  he  is  crowned  as  king  of  the  stage. 


A   SONNET.  199 

The  race  is  completed  with  echoing  cheer ; 
The  horses  were  running,  the  people  did  fear ; 
And  the  hero  is  standing  in  his  chariot  aright 
And  pulling  the  reins  like  the  string  of  a  kite. 

Whoa,  brave  boys ;  whoa,  I  say ! 

Where  is  our  rival,  I  pray  ?  " 

He  is  lying  back  there  in  a  pool  of  his  gore, 

Never  again  to  race  any  more. 

Hurrah  for  Ben  Hur  !     Hurrah  for  the  race  ! 
Hurrah  for  Lew.  Wallace,  who  started  the  chase 
And  gave  us  this  play — the  best  of  the  age — 
The  grandest  of  scene  that  is  now  on  the  stage  ! 

A  SONNET. 

The  rose  that  shines  with  brightest  hue 
And  nods  with  splendor  in  the  breeze 
Is  the  most  beautiful  thing  to  please ; 
But  'tis  known  it  only  drew 
Its  richness  from  the  place  it  grew, 
Down  in  the  little  sunny  dell, 
Where  little  brooklets  leap  and  swell 
While  passing  onward  gently  through. 
So  it  is  with  mortal  man, 
Passing  onward  o'er  the  shoal, 
Freighted  with  best  riches  known, 
Gathering  stores  where'er  he  can, 
Things  which  make  a  perfect  soul, 
Building  of  a  perfect  home. 


H»  INDIANA. 

ACROSTIC. 

Many  a  precious  little  thought 
Adores  the  one  for  which  I  sought. 
.Rambling  is  my  mind  at  rest : 
Youthful  pleasures  are  the  best. 
All  along  the  sands  of  time, 
Xo  one  kno\vs  the  heart  sublime  : 
Xo  one  knows  the  aches  of  mine. 

Everlasting  to  endure. 
Leisurely  I  sought  the  pure. 
Memory  no\v  recalls  anew 
Orange  blossoms  tried  and  true; 
Roses  bloom  and  brighter  gro\v. 
Engraved  on  my  memory  so. 

WHAT  THE  HOOSIER  SEES  IX  CHICAGO. 

The  Iloosier  goes  to  Chicago 

To  see  the  sights,  and  then 
He  treasures  up  his  heart's  delights 

And  then  comes  home  again. 
The  first  that  meets  the  longing  eyes 

Is  the  smoke  from  a  thousand  flues, 
And  next  you  see  the  rolling  tide 

Of  the  lake  and  waving  sloughs; 

Statues  of  our  bravest  men 

And  monuments  of  pride. 
Their  sarcophagus  laid  beneath 

The  imaue  steed  thev  ride; 


WHAT   THK    HOOSIKR   SEES    IN    CHICAGO.  201 


A  legion  oi'  all-colored  lights 

In  names  and  divers  shapes— 
Tis  like  the  starry  galaxy 

AVhen  everything's  in  state. 

There  are  bridges  of  quaint  design, 

And  aqueducts  so  grand. 
And  arche>  at  the  ending  streets, 

Where  people  throng  the  strand 
And  watch  the  vessels  coining  in 

Of  all  the  different  kinds; 
The  little  hark  which  plies  the  lake 

Recalls  our  boyhood  times. 

The  lighthouse  >t  and  ing  in  the  deep 

And  twinkling  like  a  star 
Is  to  the  inland  observer  new. 

His  mind  goes  out  afar. 
The  buildings,  too,  above  your  head 

Will  make  you  gasp  and  sigh — 
When  you  are  in  the  Masonic  Temple, 

Just  twenty-two  stories  high. 

The  Great  Northern  Hotel  is  grand  indeed, 

Its  organ  pipes  aloud; 
'Tis  like  the  rolling  thunder's  echo 

Along  the  distant  cloud. 
Then  there  is  a  beautiful  place 

With  palms  and  music  to  please; 
Its  name  is  just  "  Blue  "Ribbon  Saloon," 

Its  frequenters  it  will  deceive. 


202  INDIANA. 

The  Board  of  Trade  is  an  exciting  place, 

You  cannot  hear  at  all ; 
Their  voices  change  from  high  to  low 

As  the  margins  rise  and  fall. 
Some  go  broke,  and  some  have  made, 

And  some  still  hid  away; 
And  some  possess  a  wan,  sad  face, 

Expressed  by  "Alackaday  !  " 

Yon  pass  along  to  Lincoln  Park, 

The  grandest  place  of  yore; 
A  perfect  earthly  paradise, 

With  treasures  rich  in  store. 
There  are  water  ways  and  acqueducts, 

And  plants  from  every  zone 
Inside  a  grand  glass  crystal  palace, 

And  thrive  just  like  at  home. 

The  museum,  too,  is  fraught  with  things 

And  many  curious  arts — 
A  perfect  school  to  observing  men, 

Developing  their  minds  and  hearts. 
Along  the  boulevard  the  hansoms  rim 

And  carry  the  "  upper  crust/" 
While  the  common  people  walk  along 

And  view  Tecumseh's  bust. 

There  stands  the  novel  Ferris  Wheel, 

A  band  of  human  freight ; 
'Tis  propelled  by  sprocket  wheels 

At  a  thirty-minute  rate. 


ACROSTIC.  203 


You  see  all  this  on  any  day, 
And  many  other  scores ; 

The  toper,  too,  has  hilarious  times 
When  vice  has  open  doors. 

You  meet  the  people  oil  the  street ; 

They  talk  in  divers  ways — 
Some  with  accent  on  the  "  r's," 

And  some  are  on  the  "  a's." 
It  seems  to  be  a  Babel  new 

The  heavens  soon  to  reach, 
Where  God  Almighty  did  diffuse 

The  different  kinds  of  speech. 


ACROSTIC. 

Just  a  little  pleasure 
Essential  to  our  care ; 
Rays  of  brightest  sunshine, 
Rays  so  rich  and  rare. 
You  possess  a  brilliant  life ; 
Knowing  it  is  true, 
Evenly  you  scan  the  right, 
Especially  the  new ; 
Nothing  can  obstruct  the  sight 
Your  optic  pierces  through. 


204  INDIANA. 

ACROSTIC. 

All  is  not  gold  that  glitters, 

Long  with  brilliancy  it  may  shine ; 

Beautiful  things  are  mixed  with  bitter. 

Even  in  garb  of  dress  sublime. 

Rich  it  is  to  glow  with  brightness. 

Touch  of  Nature  pure  and  kind  : 

Cunning  art  but  still  and  sightless, 

Unobserved  in  chambered  mind. 

Now  and  then  the  light  reflected 

Nearer  brings  the  thinking  soul — 

In  our  minds  far  retrospeeted 

Nigh  unto  the  starting  goal. 

Gayer  then,  no  thoughts  but  leisure  : 

Heavy  loads  were  slight  and  rare: 

All  our  thoughts  were  fraught  with  pleasure. 

Manhood  attained,  some  burdens  share. 


SUGAR-MAKING  SONG. 

When  the  frost  begins  to  slacken 

And  old  Winter  has  lost  his  grip, 
Then  the  maples  quit  their  cracking 

And  the  sap  begins  to  drip. 
You  can  hear  the  pitter-patter 

In  the  vessel  down  below, 
As  the  little  droplets  clatter 

In  a  circling  tidal  flow. 


SUGAR-MAKING   SONG.  205 

'Tis  a  sweet  and  flowing  nectar, 

Like  the  wine  that  Jupiter  sips, 
And  I  love  to  be  inspector 

As  I  press  it  to  my  lips ; 
And  we  fill  the  tankards  flowing 

Till  it  sparkles  as  of  old, 
And  the  bubbles  keep  a-glowing 

With  a  tint  of  shining  gold. 

The  south  wind  joins  the  chorus 

lu  the  songs  of  humming  bees, 
And  the  blue  jay  flits  before  us 

In  the  swinging  boughs  of  trees, 
And  the  violets  nod  at  leisure 

As  they  bloom  down  by  the  brink, 
And  the  chipmunk  skips  at  pleasure 

In  the  secret  hidden  chink. 

And  as  cooler  grows  the  evening, 

There  will  icicles  grow 
As  the  sap  is  slowly  leaving 

The  spiles  in  gentle  flow ; 
And  the  downy-budded  willows 

That  arc  standing  by  the  brook 
Are  reflected  in  the  shallows 

With  a  sort  of  silver  look. 

Then  the  screech  owl  shrieks  a  whistle 

In  a  solemn  sort  of  way, 
And  the  goldfinch  on  the  thistle 

Sings  a  song  of  parting  day ; 


206 


Then  the  camp  fire  shines  the  brighter 
As  the  sparks  in  myriads  rise, 

And  all  hearts  are  gay  with  laughter 
As  the  darkness  dims  our  eyes. 

Then  the  hick'ry  torches  sputter 

As  we  change  them  in  our  hands; 
'Long  the  road  the  fire  we  scatter 

From  the  glowing,  shining  brands. 
Then  the  mud  Avill  splash  and  spatter, 

But  it  matters  not,  you  see ; 
It  just  takes  this  clash  and  clatter 

For  the  youthful  cup  of  glee. 

Men  are  wont  to  sing  in  praises 

Of  their  youth  of  long  ago, 
When  their  hearts  were  full  of  graces 

And  the  sweetest  blessings  flow. 
But  the  toil  of  passing  years 

Shows  upon  their  furrowed  brow, 
And  with  sadness  blends  a  tear 

As  they  think  of  then  and  now. 


SUGAR  MAKIXG. 

Haul  out  the  kettles  and  place  the  metal 

O'er  a  fiery  furnace  'neath ; 
Your  hands  will  nettle  as  the  mortar  you  settle 

And  make  their  casinsf  sheath. 


SUGAR   MAKING. 


207 


Bring  on  some  stone  and  build  a  cone 
To  carry  the  smoke  above  ; 

Then  YOU  have  known  a  sugar  home, 
Which  children  dearlv  love. 


SUGAR    MAKING. 


Go  tap  the  trees — 'twill  give  you  ease — 
And  place  the  vessels  below ; 

There  are  rhythm-tu-rees  and  honeybees 
When  the  sap  begins  to  flow. 


INDIANA. 

Rat-tat-tat ! — you  hear  the  pat 
Of  the  nectar  striking  below ; 

There  is  a  pit-a-pat  and  a  sound  like  that 
As  we  gather  it  to  and  fro. 

The  children  scout  and  run  about, 

And  sip  the  flowing  sweets ; 
They  pick  the  route  and  gayly  shout 

When  in  such  pleasant  retreats. 
There  are  turkey  pease  and  childish  glees, 

And  moss  from  brake  and  braes ; 
We  cry  aloud  and  join  the  crowd 

And  sing  in  childish  ways. 

The  goldfinch's  flight  is  our  delight 

Across  the  heath  and  wood ; 
We  turn  and  look  in  every  nook, 

As  children  think  they  should. 
The  squirrel,  too,  from  his  burrow  Hew, 

And  slyly  kind  o'  hid ; 
We  climbed  the  tree  and  tried  to  see 

What  little  Bunny  did. 

Our  fathers  toil  and  kettles  boil, 

Sweet-scented  is  the  steam ; 
We  children  foil  a  chance  so  royal 

And  watch  the  kettles  teem. 
We  stir  the  wax  until  it  cracks, 

Then  pour  it  out  to  cool : 
Its  strands  relax  like  breaking  flax, 

When  pulling,  as  a  rule. 


SUGAR    MAKING.  209 


When  the  sirup  puffs,  it  is  enough, 

The  sugar-making  degree : 
You  stir  the  stuff  with  ladle  rough, 

Then  granulated  "twill  be. 
The  sugar  is  made  and  work  is  stayed, 

The  refining  is  surely  done. 
We  think  it  paid  for  what  we  made 

Sweet  dreams  of  childish  fun. 

These  youthful  days  we  always  praise 

As  being  the  gem  of  life ; 
The  water  ways  and  roundelays 

Xever  knew  of  toil  and  strife. 
The  violets  blue  and  maidens  true 

All  sung  with  gentle  strain  : 
Their  hearts  all  knew  sweet  anthems,  too; 

Their  echoes  still  remain. 

The  warp  and  wool'  was  our  behoof, 

The  sun  the  shuttle  plied, 
The  vaulted  roof  was  high  aloof 

Where  the  solar  planets  glide. 
The  new  of  the  moon  is  the  harvest  tune 

When  the  sap  runs  best,  they  say  ; 
But  the  wilv  coon  won't  tap  too  soon, 

For  the  wood  just  dries  away. 

January   1".  I'**'. 

14 


210  INDIANA. 

ACROSTIC. 

Just  a  little  witty 
Erases  much  of  gloom ; 
Sure,  it  makes  a  ditty 
Sweet  road  to  royal  bloom. 
Ease  is  not  a  pleasure. 
Greatness  makes  a  man; 
Rare  as  is  our  leisure, 
Energy  shows  a  hand ; 
Esteem  is  a  golden  measure 
Now  known  in  ev'ry  land. 


ABIGE  AND  TURKEY  TOM. 

Come,  old  Tom,  let's  have  some  fun, 

And  play  around  about ; 
I  will  go,  then  you  may  come 

And  join  me  on  the  route. 

You  shake  your  head  and  gobble,  too, 

As  big  as  any  man ; 
I'll  catch  you  by  the  neck,  if  you 

Will  only  bravely  stand. 

Ker-ert !  ker-ert ! — you're  talking,  too; 

1  do  not  understand. 
You  bugaboo,  I'll  throw  at  you ; 

You've  pecked  me  on  the  hand. 


ABIGE   AND    TURKEY    TOM. 


211 


Xow  sidle  off  and  come  again, 
With  dangling  red  goatee  ; 

You  think  you'll  boss  now,  if  you  can, 
Or  cockerel  fight  with  me. 


ABIGE    AND    TURKEY    TOM. 


Come  on,  old  boy;  I'm  ready  now, 
And  give  the  starting  shout. 

He  sallied  in — I  don't  know  how — 
And  got  me  on  the  snout. 


212  INDIANA. 

Xow,  you  see,  it  isn't  fair 

To  strike  below  the  waist, 
Or  pull  my  flowing  curly  hair, 

Or  pick  me  in  the  face. 

Then  I  thought  I'd  start  and  run 

As  fast  as  I  could  sail ; 
The  gobbler,  too,  joined  in  the  fun 

And  caught  my  jacket  tail. 

Then  mamma  came,  with  broom  in  hand, 

To  stop  the  running  fight, 
And  wielded  it  as  women  can, 

And  loudly  laughed  outright. 

He  stood  aloof  and  gobbled  loud, 
As  though  he'd  won  the  fight ; 

He  strutted  round  like  Lucifer  proud — 
A  showy,  gaudy  sight. 

January  16,  1900. 


218 


MUSIC. 

Music  is  the  science'  and  art  of  musical  tones  or  of 
musical  sounds.  From  the  earliest  stages  of  an 
tiquity  there  seems  to  have  been  some  kind  of  music 
to  blend  with  the  sympathies  of  appreciative  man. 
You  may  go  among  any  of  the  peoples  of  the  world, 
and  they  will  have  some  kind  of  music.  The  orients, 
or  ancients,  used  principally  the  musical  harp,  such 
as  David  played  in  the  presence  of  the  remorseful 
king  for  his  amusement.  We  read  in  the  sacred 
writings  of  vocal  and  instrumental  music.  We  have 
different  kinds  of  music  to  affect  or  influence  the  dif 
ferent  feelings  of  mankind.  The  cheerful  or  lively 
music  animates  the  soul  of  the  young  and  brings 
every  nerve  and  muscle  into  motion  and  satisfies  their 
childlike  nature.  Then  we  have  the  solemn  or  sa 
cred  music,  which  so  affects  the  soul  or  inward  man 
to  its  more  tender  sympathies.  Even  the  savages 
have  some  kind  of  music  to  meet  their  necessities; 
thev  must  have  it  in  their  councils  of  war  and  of 
peace.  And  civilized  man,  in  time  of  a  nation's 
greatest  peril,  may  hesitate  to  take  up  his  country's 
cause;  but  when  the  fife  plays  and  the  drum  beats  the 
call  to  enlist,  he  can  resist  no  longer,  but  is  ready  to 
face  death,  if  need  be,  by  the  inspiration  these  instru 
ments  have  imparted  to  him. 

There  is  no  living  thing  which  has  a  voice  but 
makes  some  tone  of  the  musical  scale.  It  is  a  pleas- 


211 


lire  to  listen  to  the  beautiful  birds  as  they  hold  their 
morning  matinees,  giving  us  a  very  pleasing  variety 
of  their  sweet,  musical  voices.  Even  the  cawing  crow 
plays  an  important  part  in  the  harmonious  world, 
but  it  remains  for  the  mocking  bird  to  fill  one's  soul 
with  rapture  and  delight. 

Music  has  almost  magical  effect  upon  some  ani 
mals  as  well  as  man.  You  can  notice  that  they  either 
show  signs  of  delight  or  remorse.  The  faithful  dog 
may  set  up  a  pitiful  howl  on  hearing  music,  which 
in  some  way  affects  his  nervous  system,  and  even 
reptiles  will  show  an  uneasiness  on  hearing  certain 
strains  of  music. 

It  remains  for  civilized  man  to  perfect  the  scale  of 
music.  The  modern  organ  and  pianoforte  reach  the 
top  of  the  scale  when  the  beautiful  pieces  of  mod 
ern  music  are  rendered,  so  rich  and  sublime,  so  de 
lightful  to  the  human  soul. 

Xext  to  pure  life,  music  is  calculated  to  make  man 
happy.  The  hearing  of  good  music  shapes  our  hearts 
to  love  God  and  man  better;  and  if  clouds  of  gloom 
or  despondency  come  over  us,  music  will  bring  back 
the  beautiful  rays  of  sunlight  and  make  us  again 
happy  and  glad  that  we  live  in  such  a  harmonious 
world  as  this,  with  such  beautiful  strains  of  music 
blending  in  harmony  and  making  the  heart  of  man 
so  light  and  cheery.  It  is  so  like  love,  the  golden 
cord  which  binds  the  heart  of  man  to  the  throne  of 
God. 


MUSIC.  215 

The  world  has  had  some  great  authors  who  wrote 
ami  played  under  very  trying  circumstances.  Bee 
thoven,  whose  windows  of  the  soul  were  closed  to  the 
beauties  of  Nature,  led  a  very  useful  life.  He  wrote 
many  excellent  pieces  of  music  which  will  live  forever. 
I  n  old  age,  having  been  driven  from  home,  he  was 
traveling  through  Germany,  and,  unknown,  stopped 
at  a  house  and  begged  lodging.  In  the  evening  a 
young  lady  played  and  sung  one  of  his  most  won 
derful  productions,  and  he  exclaimed :  "  I  wrote  that 
music  !  "  He  made  himself  known  lo  them,  and  died 
at  that  home,  nursed  by  their  tender  hands  and  hon 
ored  as  one  of  the  world's  greatest  pilgrims  and  musi 
cians.  Eohert  Schumann  was  educated  for  a  lawyer. 
Disliking  that  profession,  he  learned  to  play  music; 
but  one  of  his  fingers  being  defective,  he  learned  to 
write  music,  and  he  so  fascinated  a  young  lady  musi- 
sian  upon  whom  he  called  to  play  his  productions 
that  she  married  hiin,  and  so  combined  two  of  the 
world's  most  renowned  people.  But,  like  Beethoven. 
he  was  very  unfortunate,  for  the  great  productions 
which  he  wrote  so  wrought  upon  him  that  he  lost  his 
mind :  but  his  loving  partner  never  deserted  him, 
and  well  proved  woman's  fidelity  and  devotion  to  one 
of  the  greatest  of  modern  musicians. 

The  female  voice  is  the  most  perfect  of  all  vocal 
music,  and  is  so  wonderful  and  pleasing  to  the  soul. 

Andre,  the  explorer,  bad  his  wife  sing  in  a  phono 
graph,  so  that  he  could  hear  her  sweet,  musical  voice 


216  INDIANA. 

when  he  was  taking  his  fatal  trip  to  the  Arctic  re 
gions.  We  have  often  read  of  the  sweet  sirens  who 
sung  so  beautifully  as  to  lure  the  unwary  sailors  to 
the  dangers  of  the  lonely  isles,  from  whence  they 
never  returned. 

National  airs  played  in  time  of  war  make  men 
face  deadly  foes  when  otherwise  they  might  fear 
their  task.  After  the  battle  at  El  Caney,  Cuba,  the 
wounded  were  taken  to  the  battle  ships,  and  the  bands 
began  to  play  "  The  Star-spangled  Banner,"  and 
many  a  dying  soldier  shouted  and  waved  his  hands 
for  the  Fn ion  flag  and  his  country  as  he  drew  his 
last  faint  breath.  Men,  when  their  hearts  are  filled 
with  good  music,  are  inspired  to  do  greater  and  nobler 
deeds.  The  poor  blind  beggar  in  the  street  depends 
upon  how  he  moves  the  hearts  of  his  fellows  by  his 
touching  songs  for  contributions  and  aid. 


HOW   SUCCESS   IS   WON.  217 


HOW  SITTESS  IS  W(W. 

Solomon,  the  wisest  of  all  earthly  kings,  lias  said : 
"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  l.e  should  go :  and  when 
he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it."  That  was  true 
in  his  day,  and  is  also  true  in  ours.  N~ature  has  en 
dowed  us  with  bodies,  minds,  wills,  and  judgment 
capable  of  any  undertaking.  The  philosopher  who 
was  captured  by  unlearned  men  said,  "  Give  me  time 
and  I  will  extricate  myself."  He  was  depending  on 
the  power  which  the  God  of  Nature  had  given  him. 
So  it  must  be  with  us,  if  we  fulfill  our  mission  in  this 
world.  A  person  must  lay  his  plans,  and  then  work 
according  to  them  with  a  determined  will.  Some 
people,  because  they  achieve  great  things,  are  pro 
claimed  geniuses  and  looked  upon  as  wonderful  men  ; 
but  it  is  only  because  they  have  made  use  of  the  powers 
\vhich  were  in  them.  All  men  are  created  equal  or 
nearly  so,  but  some  tower  above  their  fellows,  like 
the  giant  oak  of  the  forest,  on  account  of  their  great 
energy  and  perseverance.  The  lines  of  Longfellow 
well  illustrate  the  fact : 

"  The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept 

Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight ; 

Biit  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 

By  "  success  "  we  mean  not  only  those  who  have 
heaps  of  gold  and  silver,  bonds  and  stocks,  but  also 


218  INDIANA. 

those  who  have  accomplished  the  things  which  they 
set  out  to  attain.  Some  desire  to  become  great  schol 
ars  and  teachers  and  to  he  benefactors  to  the  people 
and  nation;  a:.d  if  they  attain  to  their  aim,  then 
they  are  a  wonderful  success,  to  be  remembered  for 
ever.  Some  may  desire  to  study  for  the  ministry  and 
spend  their  days  for  the  cause  of  Christianity,  like 
Luther,  Calvin,  and  Huss,  spending  their  time  not 
all  in  pleasure,  but  sometimes  being  obliged  to  sing 
in  the  streets  for  bread  to  allay  their  hunger,  and  also 
being  hunted  by  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  that 
they  might  perseciite  them.  But  listen  to  the  words 
of  Luther  when  summoned  to  Worms  for  trial  because 
his  teaching  was  different  from  that  of  the  clergy. 
His  friends  warned  him  riot  to  go,  but  he  exclaimed : 
"  I  would  go,  if  there  were  as  many  devils  in  Worms 
as  the  tiles  on  the  roof !  "  And  he  did  go. 

"  Thrice  is  he  armed  who  hath  his  quarrel  just/' 
These  men  were  a  success,  for  they  accomplished 
what  they  set  out  to  do,  and  more,  for  their  works  still 
live.  Their  books  are  but  phonographs  of  the  dead, 
speaking  to  us  of  their  trials,  loves,  joys,  and  deeds, 
which  are  as  wholesome  as  the  air  that  blows. 

We  have  examples  of  self-made  men,  and  by  all 
odds  all  are  self-made  or  never  made.  Even  the  stu 
dent  at  college  must  study  or  fail.  Many  go  through 
college  and  pass  out  of  sight.  They  are  a  disappoint 
ment  to  themselves  and  their  friends :  they  have 
not  the  will,  push,  nor  energy  to  carry  themselves  on 


HOW   SUCCESS    IS   WON.  !>19 


to  victory.  But  look  at  Abraham  Lincoln,  how  dif 
ferently  he  obtained  his  education — at  the  fireside  by 
the  light  of  a  candle  after  he  had  labored  hard  all 
day  long.  He  saw  beauty  in  Xature;  his  feelings 
were  in  sympathy  with  what  he  did,  or  he  never  could 
have  accomplished  what  he  did.  lie  had  tender  feel 
ings  for  others,  and  so  became  the  emancipator  of  the 
slaves  of  our  republic.  His  name  still  lives  and  will 
live  to  the  end  of  time.  He  is  an  example — one  of  the 
most  wonderful — of  the  self-made  men  of  the  world, 
but  there  are  thousands  of  others.  A  few  years  ago 
the  State  of  Xew  York  sent  out  West  a  car  load  of 
orphan  boys  to  find  homes  wherever  they  could  and  to 
seek  a  living,  and  it  so  happened  that  two  boys  sat 
in  the  same  seat — one  a  large,  fine-featured  fellow, 
and  the  other  a  small,  undersized  lad — and  when  they 
arrived  at  their  destination,  the  farmers  came  in  to 
pick  out  boys  whom  they  thought  most  suitable  for 
work.  It  so  happened  that  the  little  fellow  was  left 
until  the  last,  on  account  of  his  size;  it  seemed  as 
though  no  one  wanted  him;  but  a  sturdy  Irishman 
came  along  and  took  pity  on  him  and  gave  him  an 
apple,  telling  him  that,  if  no  one  wanted  him,  he 
might  go  home  with  him ;  and  so  he  did ;  and  to 
day  those  two  boys  who  sat  in  the  same  seat  and  were 
like  the  stone  which  the  builders  rejected  are  gov 
ernors  in  two  of  our  \Yestern  States.  All  of  this 
was  achieved  by  courage,  pluck,  and  energy.  The 
fortune  of  a  father  or  mother  is  no  royal  road  to  sue- 


220  INDIANA. 

cess,  for  it  may  be  wafted  away  at  a  single  stroke  of 
the  pen;  but  courage  like  Leonidas  had  at  the  pass 
of  Thermopylae,  with  his  little  army,  may  move  the 
world.  Energy  is  the  only  true  road  to  success,  but 
energy  out  of  use  is  dead.  Xapoleon  Bonaparte  gave 
the  nations  of  Europe  a  great  deal  of  trouble  on  ac 
count  of  his  indomitable  will  and  courage. 

Nations,  too,  are  like  individuals  according  to  their 
energy  and  push.  It  is  easy  to  see  the  status  of  the 
United  States,  if  we  but  look  at  the  Spanish-Ameri 
can  War  and  our  valiant  soldiers  knocking  ai:  the 
walls  of  China,  which  were  like  a  parapet  of  earth  to 
them. 

Some  desire  great  wealth  as  a  road  to  fame.  It  is 
not  always  the  best  kind  of  riches  one  can  possess, 
but  it  is  very  necessary  in  civilized  nations  to  have 
money  to  carry  on  the  business  of  the  nation  ;  and 
the  more  of  it  they  have,  the  more  prosperous  it  will 
be.  Money  promotes  trade  and  civilization  ;  heathen 
lands  have  no  use  for  it.  Some  trades  and  occupa 
tions  could  not  be  carried  on  without  it.  Still,  we 
have  individuals  who  make  a  wrong  use  of  it ;  but  it 
cannot  be  said  that  they  were  not  a  financial  success. 
They  cannot  be  rated  with  such  men  as  Johns  Hop 
kins,  Avho  endowed  Johns  Hopkins  University,  and 
Simon  Yandez,  who  gave  $50,000  to  build  a  library 
at  Crawfordsville,  Ind. 

We  have  had  great  men  like  S.  F.  B.  Morse,  who  in 
vented  telegraphy;  but  he  lacked  the  means  to  carry 


HOW   SUCCESS    IS   WON.  221 

it  into  effect,  and  had  to  ask  the  government  to  aid 
him,  thereby  receiving  $30,000  to  bring  his  invention 
before  the  people.  Elias  Howe  was  another  who 
strove  to  gain  achievement  in  poverty  and  distress; 
but  success  came  at  last,  as  it  will  to  the  obedient, 
diligent,  and  persevering.  Goodyear,  Fulton,  and 
Whitney  were  the  laughingstock  for  the  common 
herd,  being  branded  as  fools  by  them ;  bnt  success 
crowned  their  efforts,  and  then  they  were  the  pride 
of  the  world,  while  the  scoffers  have  passed  from 
earth  unknown  ;  no  lasting  monument  marks  their 
departure  in  the  minds  of  men.  Tf  one  desires  to 
succeed  in  a  pecuniary  sense,  he  will  have  to  stop  all 
unnecessary  spending  of  money,  and  he  can  soon 
own  a  good  home  of  his  own  ;  for  just  think  when 
you  spend  a  nickel  for  a  cigar,  it  would  buy  a  square 
yard  of  land  worth  fifty  dollars  per  acre,  and  the  pur 
chase  of  a  bottle  of  pop  would  buy  another,  and  a 
glass  of  wine  or  ale  would  buy  two  square  yards,  and 
so  by  avoiding  such  expenditures  for  a  few  years  you 
can  be  in  good  circumstances. 

Jay  Gould  was  once  a  poor  bo}r,  and  he  spent  his 
first  fifty  cents  for  a  book  to  carry  to  school,  and  then 
we  find  him  sitting  in  the  street  hungry  for  some 
thing  to  eat ;  but  these  were  trials  which  taught  him 
the  value  of  money.  Then  we  soon  find  him  in  a  tan 
nery,  a  bank,  and  then  in  one  of  the  greatest  stock 
exchanges  of  the  world,  having  ascended  from  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder  to  the  top  by  his  own  effort. 


222  INDIANA. 

One  must  always  be  on  the  alert  and  watchful  to  take 
in  the  situation  when  it  offers,  or  all  is  lost.  A  good 
epitaph  for  some  who  are  always  disappointed  in  their 
efforts  would  be :  "A  little  too  slow."'  Men  are  a 
little  like  race  horses,  and  the  most  observant,  dili 
gent,  and  frugal  wins  the  race. 

Let  us  live  as  noble  men. 

Working  for  a  crown  above ; 
Let  us  live  as  best  we  can. 

Full  of  virtue,  peace,  and  love. 

Strive  to  gain  a  rich  reward. 

And  let  the  vain  world  know 
We  are  children  of  the  Lord, 

Born  in  worlds  helow. 

Be  up  and  doing  with  a  will. 

With  a  heart  both  pure  and  great ; 
Climb  the  roughest  rugged  hill, 

Then  success  will  be  your  fate. 

Never  stop  as  laggards  do. 

Looking  sad,  disconsolate; 
To  yourself  be  bold  and  true, 

You  will  be  among  the  great. 

Monuments  will  speak  your  fame 

On  the  bold,  emblazoned  page ; 
Children  long  will  lisp  your  name 

In  a  future  coming  age. 


HOW   SUCCESS   IS   WON.  223 

Never  falter  at  the  top, 

Let  your  course  go  on  and  on  ; 
Running  rivers  ne'er  can  stop, 

Lest  their  force  is  lost  and  gone. 

Nature's  purest  waters  glide 

O'er  their  sinning  pebbly  shore: 
Blooming  flowers  line  each  side, 

Lending  sweetness  as  of  vore. 

Write  your  name  so  all  may  know, 

Passing  onward  as  they  may, 
That  true  worth  is  not  a  show, 

But  a  crown  that  shines  by  day. 

ENVOY. 

May  we  always  love  sweet  poetrv,  friend, 

As  it  pleases  you  and  me; 
May  we  meet  some  other  time  again 

This  side  of  eternity. 


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PS  Elmore  ~ 

3^09         Love  among  the 

El|85  1 


